Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
I, Jarod
Anonymous
Why, Syd? All those years spent trapped like a lab rat, examined under the microscopes of Raines and the Triumvirate. All those years, those wasted years.
I'm gone now. Catch me if you can.
I dropped the red notebook onto the floor of my latest lair. The dark, dank atmosphere had depressed me initially, but now it seems to fit my state of mind. I am an animal, escaping back into the earth, back to nature.
I picked the book back up. The red paper feels rough to my hands, but it is a familiar feeling. I glanced over to the silver case that held my life at the Centre. The DSA's hold my past, but what holds my present? I turn the notebook over in his hands, examining the cover. Perhaps it is time for a new method of storing my life.
I stand up and toss the notebook into my bag.
***
Jarod Freud enters the beautifully decorated office. I am him, myself for once. Everywhere I look, perfectly grained oak assaults my senses. I casually cross over to the couch and lay down. She looks so much like the one at the asylum. It is a comfort to me.
"What do you want to talk about, Jarod?" Her voice is similar to the other shrink's.
I can't help myself. I have to look over to her. "I want others to know what I have done." There. It's out.
"You mean those…'pretends'?"
The clinical disapproval in her voice hurts. "My young life was captured on film, but there's no record for now."
She scribbles on her notepad. "Perhaps you need someone to praise your actions."
She is so wrong. "No, that's not it. I spent my entire life without positive reinforcement. I don't need it now." The ceiling is white, not that imitation oak.
"Perhaps you need some way to express yourself, Jarod. Have you ever considered a journal?"
***
Here I am, Sydney. She decided that it would be "therapeutic" for me to write in this journal. She said that I should just write as thoughts come into my head. Perhaps she is right, maybe it will help me.
It hurts, Sydney. Love burns, love destroys, love pillages. Why then, do people continue to fall in love? I see people, Sydney, people who would do anything for love, but when they get it, they hate it.
Hate. There's a powerful emotion. An equivalent to love, only the dark side of it. Someone told me that emotions are neither positive nor negative, it's only how you use them. But I find that any emotions leads to evil. Where is the check and balance? Where is the sanity in all of this?
Sanity! Ha! I exist on the very brink of sanity, Sydney. You and your Centre colleagues saw to that. I cannot be fully sane. I cannot lead a normal life, not with my gift. How can someone like myself not help those who need it? I defend the weak and abused, those unfortunate souls snared by the evil surrounding them.
My life ended the moment the Centre stole me from my parents. You killed me, Sydney. I cannot live. I am a pretender, a "genius". I can do anything, except live as a human. I am an alien, a foreigner to this world. I watched this show called the X-files. It epitomizes me. I am the alien, the force that people fear.
An alien without a home, my only refuge is you. You exist as my link between this world and my sanity. If I never thank you, let me do it now.
Being a pretender is. No object, no existence other than that which exists. I have no identity, no sense of myself. My values were Centre instilled, my life a mere recording of a young boy who lived others' lives. When will Jarod exist? Will I exist after Jarod is found? Or is Jarod a figment of someone else's reality?
Do you know what it is like to not know, Sydney? What is life without a life to live? Where do I begin? End? Is there anything, Sydney?
I have to go. Duty as a pretender calls. Only now do I really exist.
***
Yoga Class, Chicago.
I popped a Pez into my mouth and assumed the classic lotus position. The yoga instructor stood in front of our class. He is a well-built Asian with a smile lurking in his eyes. I know his name, but this instructor is not my concern.
I have to let myself go, float deeper into my soul. My thoughts swim in a murky current that slowly runs from my body into the earth beneath me. The sugar on my tongue links me to reality, but as it dissolves in my mouth, I begin to lose myself.
I was surprised to discover that this is amazingly similar to pretending. All I have to do is lose myself. When you don't really exist, there isn't much to lose. My family runs across my eyelids. They are the only thing I can't lose, no matter how hard I try.
His voice draws me back to reality. My eyes are like lead weights, yet I manage to open them. Not surprisingly, it is dark outside. Every day I improve.
Lee smiles at me. "You beat yesterday's time, Jarod. Seven hours today."
Of course I beat it. Nevertheless, I remain cordial. "Thanks." He leaves me alone with my thoughts. I am here for a reason, Sydney. Lee has also agreed to instruct me in the martial arts. I plan to pick up my black belt by next week, then I will be ready for my next pretend.
The red notebook glares at me from behind my bag. This is one pretend that will have to wait.
I failed her once. That is enough. I read her story in the newspaper. She had been the victim of a brutal attack. Now she is trying to pull her life back together. But he is still out there.
And I will repay. I swear it.
***
Chicago apartment
I cannot eat, cannot sleep. She is on my mind again. God only knows what brings this on. Whoever said it was a love-hate relationship was a prophet. She represents the end of freedom, the conclusion. Yet she also means the beginning, the first kiss, the girl that I first knew.
You know the pain, Sydney. I know of your son and secret love. You know. Does she know, Sydney? The angel of my dreams too often is a demon tormenting my soul. I cannot sleep. She consumes me, and we are hundreds of miles apart. What will I do when we meet face to face, hunted and huntress?
***
Ten hours this time. Lee is amazed at my progress, both at the meditation, and at the martial arts. I am soon ready. Two days. Then I will avenge.
***
Downtown
There he is. I have followed him for days, but he has no pattern. I cannot bear to become him, so I follow. Each day he finds another victim and jots them down in his notebook. It must have a hundred potential women in it. I find myself hating him. I can't explain it, I just do.
The winter wind is bitter against my skin. Tomorrow I will get a warmer jacket, but tonite I am on my own. This bastard will pay for his crimes.
And I will make him pay. For Marie. For the dozen others. For me.
***
I can't find him. He's gone, probably to visit one of his "potentials". I finally realize why I hate him so much. He represents everything that is wrong in this world, the evil, the oppression, the death. No one cares about the little guy anymore.
They're wrong. I care. I care about everyone, everything. I defend the weak and abused. I am too late, Sydney. Too late for Marie, for Karyn, for Jenny, for Angie. For countless others before I heard. He will be stopped, even if I must kill again. And I will kill him. Nothing will stop me
***.
Streets
He is gone. God help me, Sydney, he is gone! I can't find any trace of him. Not one hair, or track in this snow. I need help. They need help. I don't know her name, Sydney, but she needs my help. I feel so damn powerless, there's nothing I can do. Where is he?
I cannot sleep until I find him. I will find him- won't I? There's only one thing left to do. I must become him. It frightens me, but for Marie's sake, I will.
***
Apartment
I'm losing myself in the pretend. It always happens, but this time it feels wrong. I cannot fit. I cannot feel his thoughts. Something is wrong. Sydney, help me!
Something is wrong. So wrong.
I can feel it now. And it feels good.
***
Streets
There she is. The object of my affection. It is so easy. A simple step behind her. A hand over her mouth. A gun in her back. She's mine now.
I feel it. Throbbing, pulsing, pounding. Is this evil ? It cannot. It feels so right. This is what I am. Not the weakling before. Defender of the weak and abused. Ha! There's a reason the weak perish. Man must move forward. They must become gods like me.
I am a god. I need no one, nothing. I am…
Why do I write in this? Why?
***
The Centre
"The Triumvirate is putting a lot of pressure on me to find Jarod." Lyle paced his sister's office.
The smirk on her face was unmistakable. "You poor baby."
He ignored her. "They've authorized the use of Angelo."
"Ooh- be sure to send them a thank you note."
Lyle poked his finger in Parker's face. "I'm trying to do my job. Something you should consider. Sis."
***
SL-5
"Angelo, I want you to search all of the national news- look for any tragedies or possible wrongs to be righted."
Angelo picked up the box of Cracker Jack that Lyle had left. He inspected the caramel corn, then popped one into his mouth. He enjoyed the loud crunch and the sweet taste on his tongue. "Why?"
Lyle turned at the door. "We need to find Jarod."
Angelo shrugged, then turned to the twin monitors on the desk.
***
Sydney's office
She strode assuredly into the psychiatrist's office. "Brother dearest is feeling pressure from the Big Three to retrieve Jarod."
Sydney swiveled away from his computer. "Why the sudden increased interest in Jarod?"
Parker reached autonomously for her cigarette case before her brain caught up with her actions. "Damn. That's the ten thousand dollar question, Syd." She turned to the technician failing to hide in the corner.
"Broots, I want you to cling to Angelo. Whatever he discovers, I want to know it first. We will get to the bottom of this."
***
I've scored three today. Their faces. Oh yes, the look of pure horror on their faces- it feeds me, consumes me. Terror is my servant, my slave. I enslave others, imprison their souls. Their bodies serve mine, yet I rely on their fear to sustain me. The count has climbed to seventeen. I've beat that other bastard. I am god.
***
Lyle carefully unwound the bandage from his hand. His thumb had begun to bleed again, and that worried him. He dropped the bloodied bandages into the wastebasket. A noise at the entryway spun him around.
"Admiring your handiwork?"
He glared at his sister. "What the hell do you want?"
"Angelo had an extreme reaction to one of the newspapers. I thought you might be interested."
"After you've already dispatched a team, I'm sure."
She flashed her brilliantly white teeth. "Of course. Our plane leaves in an hour."
***
I sent the police a tip. Now he is in custody. Now I rule supreme over this town. Two more today.
***
Lyle slid into the comfortable first class seat. He tucked a pillow behind his head and reached for the inflight magazine. Her hand stalled his.
"Not now, little brother. We have things to discuss."
Lyle snorted, then grabbed the magazine. "We find him. We capture him. Where's the discussion?"
She snaked her body around the seat and snatched the magazine from his hand. "Jarod is not an idiot like some thumbless and brainless morons I know. He will have an escape plan, and will implement it as soon as he sees trouble."
"Fine. Don't show him any trouble." He pulled the magazine from her hand. "Now let me rest."
Parker walked back to her seat. "It's pointless, Syd. He has his head so far stuck up his ass that he won't even listen to me."
Sydney chuckled. "I think that the fact that you're telling him has some impact on his actions."
"Fine. Take his side."
"Now, Miss Parker, I'm not taking sides. However, you are beginning to sound like a spoiled child."
She ignored the last comment. "What was it that Angelo reacted to?"
Sydney pulled out a file from his briefcase, and scanned it quickly. "Apparently there has been a rash of abductions and rapes in the Chicago area. The same MO, a stalking, then a grab and a kill. Twenty-one young women have been killed in a span of a month."
She snorted. "I'm surprised its taken your wonder boy this long to figure it out."
***
There is this face in my mind. I don't know who it is, but I must have her. She is the one I am searching for. I may keep her alive to amuse me. One thing is for certain. She is mine.
***
Chicago
Miss Parker stepped out of O'Hare airport to be greeted by the bitter wind. She threw her bags into the trunk of the Centre car. Broots and Sydney sat down in the back, while Lyle opted for the driver's seat.
She shook her head. "Like hell. Get your ass on the other side." She waited for him to move, then slid into the seat. The Town car screeched away from the curb, quickly making its way to the Hilton.
***
She still plagues my thoughts, but I have other possibilities. There is one now. Named Sara Kennedy, waitress. 5'10", beautiful hazel eyes. Newest interest. Mine.
***
Broots set up the laptop and plugged into the police network. He wasn't rejoicing over his roommate, but Miss Parker had insisted that Lyle stay in his room. It wasn't any of his business, but he wondered how she and her brother would handle being in the same room for more than ten minutes. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be there when it happened.
"Uh… there's no new reports on the police scanner. Looks like a pretty calm night."
Lyle glanced over to the tech. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
***
She made sure that the door was locked, then proceeded to strip down to shower. Sydney wasn't her ideal roommate, but he was a hell of a lot better than the simian next door, either one of them. She smiled.
***
I feel the smile on my face as I close in. There. Add one more to my total.
***
Broots smiled as he entered the virtual world he had created online. Numerous gamers had logged on trying to overthrow his domain and rescue the beautiful princess enslaved in his castle. They had failed.
His computer beeped rudely at him as it opened a new window on top of his kingdom. Broots scanned the information, then hesitantly shook Lyle awake. "There's been another murder."
***
Sydney opened the door as Broots banged loudly on the oak. "What is it, Broots?"
The technician stumbled over his words. "There…there's been another…incident."
Sydney frowned. "Where?"
Broots leaned against the bathroom door. "Over in downtown Chicago…near the lake." He fell hard onto the tiled floor as the door swung open. "What the…"
He opened his eyes and looked up at Miss Parker, clad only in a bathrobe.
"Uhh…"
***
Apartment
I wash the blood from my hands, filling the basin with scalding hot water. She was a true prize, Sara. Too bad I had to kill her. We could have had something special.
***
Parker strode authoritatively onto the crime scene. She grabbed a passing officer. "Who's in charge?"
"Special Agent Shorpe over there, Ma'am."
She made her way over to the tall dark-haired FBI agent. "Agent Shorpe?"
"Yes?" He turned around. "Parker? Is that you?" His face split wide open in a hearty grin.
"Tom? It is you! How are things?"
"I'd feel better if we could catch this sick bastard. He's killed at least twenty women. We thought we had him, even had our suspect in our jail, but then these last five happened." He shook his head sadly.
"I see they brought in the big guns for this one. FBI, huh?"
"Yeah. God, it's good to see you, Parker. What brings you here?" He ran his hands through his light brown hair.
"I'm looking for someone that I believe is working with you." She pulled a picture of Jarod from her coat pocket. "Can you tell me where he is?"
"Can't say that I can. Do you have a name?"
"Jarod. No known last name."
"Sorry, babe. Can't help you there." He motioned to another officer. "Wrap it up, Dennis." His attention returned to her. "Have any plans for tonight?"
Parker looked over her shoulder to where Broots, Sydney and Lyle were standing. "No, not really."
He smiled again. "Great. How's dinner sound?"
She looked down at her watch. "At three in the morning?"
"Hey, we never were an ordinary couple. See you in a bit." He walked off to finish his report. She turned on her heel and strode over to the rest of her team.
Sydney treated her with a disapproving look. "We're here for business, Parker, not pleasure."
"Wonder boy's not here, Syd. I'm not going to let that stop me from having some fun." She glared at the group. "You three can work your asses off. " With that, she walked back over to the FBI agent.
***
Apartment
That was too close. They are closing in. HA! They think that they can catch me. Never. She was there. The one from my dreams, my nightmares. I must have her. She is next.
***
Hotel
"Is she always like that?" Lyle asked incredulously.
"That's the Ice Queen for you." Broots laughed, then added nervously, "I didn't really mean that about your…uh…."
Lyle smiled. "No offense taken, Mr. Broots. My dear sister and I are not exactly the closest of family."
Sydney chuckled. "Your whole family is a perfect study in abnormal psychology."
***
C'est Magnifique, Chicago
Tom sipped his red wine delicately, the cool beverage flooding his taste buds. His eyes, too drank, but of a different draught. She was beautiful, as beautiful as when they had first met in Washington, D.C. They had both been there for a security conference, but they ended up attending less of the conference than either had intended. His boss had not been happy.
"What are you up to, Parker?"
Her body was draped with silk, the one amenity she took everywhere she traveled. Her mouth smiled at him. "I told you. I'm looking for that man, Jarod."
"Why did you think he worked with me?" His inquisitiveness had earned him the reputation of a bloodhound among his fellow agents. And something smelled here.
She sighed. "Can this wait? We haven't seen each other in…"
He cut her off. "You're right. How about you personally, Parker? Seeing anyone?"
"Damn bloodhound." She laughed. "I've missed you."
"Sure you have. I'm positive there have been plenty of other dashing men ready to leap at your every whim. Hell, even in D.C. there were guys drooling over you, and I was right there. Don't tell me you missed me."
"Fine. I haven't missed you. There has been a line a mile long to get into my bed every evening, and it shows no sign of abating. Some of them are quite handsome. In fact, you should have seen the one last night…"
"Alright, you win. Now shut up and eat."
***
Outside
Who is she with? Damn him, whoever he is. But I can feel it pulsing tonite. It will soon be my time. She will soon be mine. He will die. Slowly. Painfully. Then will I be complete.
***
Hotel
"Shall I walk you to your door?"
Parker smiled , then drew him close. Their mouths met briefly, then parted. "I can manage. Thanks."
He walked away, but couldn't help glancing over his shoulder as he went. She turned the key, opened the door and walked in.
FBI agent Shorpe grinned widely. Tomorrow was another day.
Not for you… My blade snaps out with a move of my wrist. He hears it, but cannot turn in time. It is too easy, so I throw the knife to the ground and lash out with a crescent kick to rid him of his gun. The Sig clatters against the icy ground at the same moment my instep collides with his temple. Still too easy. This shitbag is worthless. But I can use him…
***
"Where have you been ?" Lyle shot her an accusatory look.
"None of your business, little brother." She tossed her purse onto the bed. Her head ached from the wine and stress of chasing the Centre's boy. "What the hell are you doing in my room, anyways?"
Sydney spoke up. "We felt it would be best to plan tomorrow's activities."
"Are we a tour group now?" The sarcasm she had withheld the entire evening bubbled out. "Angelo screwed up. Jarod's not here, and by tomorrow night, I won't either."
"Maybe Jarod's not involved in the pursuit," Broots interjected.
She rolled her eyes. "Obviously not."
"But maybe he's involved somehow else…like in a hospital or trauma unit."
Lyle nodded. "Good thought, Broots. Get on it first thing in the morning."
Sydney shook his head. "It's not like Jarod to be so passive when there is a problem. I just don't understand it."
Parker had had enough. "Get out. NOW!"
The phone rang.
***
Apartment
I have him, I want you. I've seen you. I want you. With me. Now.
***
"What do you mean, Parker?" The Belgian looked up in surprise.
She shook her head, as if trying to grasp what she had just heard. "He wants me in exchange for Tom's life."
Lyle's concern unsettled her almost as much as the call. "Who wants you?"
Parker shivered violently. "He said that he was god, and that no one was ever going to catch him." And I believe him. She didn't add her thoughts.
Broots stared at the phone as if it were some demonic force. "The killer?"
Sydney leaned back in the leather chair. "How does he know you?"
"He must have seen us together tonight. I'm the meat of choice for the day." She walked over to the closet and pulled out the black leather bag that came standard with all Centre vehicles. Her hand dipped in and dug out twin Sigs, and her Lady Smith and Wesson.
"Oh no. You can't possibly expect to meet him." Lyle's tone had just a touch of caring in it.
"I have to." She traced the barrel of the gun with her finger. She pocketed several clips and made her way to the door.
"Parker !" She turned around slowly.
Lyle grabbed one of the weapons. "We're going with you."
***
Lake Michigan
She agreed, but I can't trust her. I know that much. She'll have help. But I am god. I can have her, own her, feel her. Tonite.
I wait for her. She will come, I know it. He's in the car parked near the dock, bound and gagged. I won't need him.
I spy the towncar pulling up now. She steps out, clad in a black overcoat that conceals her legs. In Chicago, a mini skirt is suicide. Does she know that this is the end for her?
I hope so.
***
"Where the hell is he?," she hissed down to Sydney in the car. They had decided that he would be the least threatening to whoever was out there.
"Biding his time, Parker. He has all night if he wants."
***
Lyle and Broots were in the other car, an old clunker that they had rented just for tonight. Broots was fiddling nervously with his firearm, a sight that lent no confidence to Lyle. They waited.
***
Do they think that I don’t see the others? I do. But they matter not. They can not see me. No one can see me.
***
Are you ready?
She jumps. They all do. Her gun is out before I'm finished speaking. It is out of her hand in seconds. My hand easily imprisons her. She can't see me, and it scares her.
The fear is flowing now, I can taste it, smell it.
"Sydney…" He is out of the car faster than I had anticipated. He too, has a gun. He too, loses it. I laugh, but time is running short. I shove her into the car, send the other flying with a kick. I can feel the others running towards me… A step, and I am in the car beside her. My mind locks hers until she can not move. My powers grow, but now I cannot relish it. A foot on the pedal, and it is done.
***
"Damn it!" Lyle let loose with a dozen epithets meant for the abductor, the abductor's mother, and anyone else missed in the first two categories.
He helped Sydney up. "Are you alright?"
The dazed psychiatrist nodded his head slowly. "What was that?"
Lyle shook his head. "We couldn't see- what did he look like?"
Sydney looked at Lyle curiously. "look like…what did he look like?" He dropped his head to his chest. "I…don't know."
Lyle left Broots to take care of Sydney and instead walked over to the car. He grasped the tracking unit that followed the Towncar's location. It was heading south at near impossible speeds on the icy ground. Lyle pulled the car over near to the others and hauled them into the back seat.
***
Apartment
She is still in fear. Her face is flushed and her pupils dilated. I can hear her pulse pounding from across the room. The man is in the other room. I will deal with him later.
I can feel her heat, too. It excites me, enthralls me. I am now complete, perfect. She shies away from me as I approach. She still cannot see me through my guise. I want her to see me. I sit on the bed she lies on. No restraints are necessary, only her fear.
Her eyes, her beautiful eyes try to focus on my image, try to find me among the darkness of my soul. She narrows her eyes, and I lose myself in those orbs. Her fear is dissipating. Anger, a far more sinister emotion takes its place.
I cannot lose her, I know that much now. I must rekindle her fear, so I bring him out. Her eyes widen at his visage. Blood still flows from the blows I dealt him outside the hotel, obscuring his image. She sees him, then turns and blasphemes me.
I pull a knife from my belt and play with it in front of his eyes. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. I drive it easily into his stomach. She screams. I like that. The blade transverses his torso, up to the base of his throat. I dally there, drawing blood. Sadly, there is not much left in him.
The fear is back, accompanied with rage. But the fear is back. I control again. The corpse slumps to the floor. I sit back with a sketchpad and outline her body on the paper. The terror in her eyes is my goal.
***
Chicago
Lyle pulled the junk heap to a stop. The towncar sat pristinely in the parking lot of the apartment complex. He counted the lights on in the building. Five apartments that she could be in. She wasn't on his list of favorite people, but no one deserved what that bastard had done.
He made his way up the stairs, then paused at the second floor. He glanced over to Sydney, who shook his head.
"These people love high places. All the way to the top."
***
The fear is subsiding now. I haven't harmed her, and she knows it. Now is the time, to rekindle the terror in her beautiful eyes. It rises as I again walk over to the bed. I tie her hands together. She can offer no resistance.
But I can't. Her eyes control me as my mind controls hers. She can hold a whole man's life in those spheres of light and darkness. I brush those warm eyes with my cold lips. She shivers with my touch, but I can not touch her again.
The door ! It flies open…Who dares to interrupt me?
It is the other, the one in the other car. He has a gun in his hand. I can but laugh. This gun shall do no harm. I move to remove it, but she stops me. I can feel her mind fighting me, and those eyes…help me, those eyes drag me down into herself.
The gun…
***
Lyle squeezed the trigger twice and watched with satisfaction as the dark wraith went down. He shivered as he looked down at the ghostly figure on the floor. It was slowly becoming more visible, more distinct. Lyle strode quickly over to his sister and loosed her bonds.
"Are you okay?"
She, too, shivered. Her mind was again her own. She looked over to the two bodies on the floor, one a friend, the other a killer. "I think so."
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Sydney asked.
"No…he didn't have time. " She looked up at Lyle. "Thanks."
Broots stood nervously over the downed figure. "Uh, Sydney, Miss Parker, you'd better see this."
They turned, and walked over. Its face was becoming clear now. Sydney stared at the face as it emerged.
"Oh my God." Parker clapped her hand across her mouth. "It's Jarod."
***
Where am I? White surrounds me, is this death ? Am I now truly god ?
There are voices, voices of pain, quiet voices that soothe each other. I can hear her voice. I move…something holds me down, restrains me. No matter.
I lose myself, lose reality, until I exist elsewhere, elsewhere I can move. Now I find myself again, drag myself into the world where everyone else exists.
There is shock again on that pretty face, and horror in the men's faces. I struggle to reach to them, but I am… weak…too weak.
***
Jarod collapsed onto the floor. Sydney was by his side in an instant. "Nurses !"
They too, rushed in. Two men and a woman helped hoist him onto the bed and refasten his restraints. The doctor strode in. "What the hell happened ?"
Sydney glanced up at him. "Somehow he escaped from the restraints."
Miss Parker sat down beside Sydney. "He is stronger now, stronger than even last night."
Lyle sank down into a deep leather chair. He rubbed his brow tiredly. "Where the hell did Jarod learn his new tricks?"
"This is an unprecedented turn in the Pretender project." Sydney glanced over to the unconscious Jarod. "There has never been a Prodigy who has demonstrated these talents. Other projects have exhibited similar talents, but not to this degree."
"We need to find the one who taught him." Parker stood up and left the room "Somehow."
***
Yoga class
"Are you sure this is the place, Broots?" Lyle asked.
"The apartment that Jarod was staying at had materials from here, so it seemed logical." Broots stammered.
Lyle walked across the padded floor to where a man sat meditating. "Hello?"
He looked up. "Can I help you?"
"We're looking for this man. Have you seen him?" Lyle pulled a picture from his pocket.
"Jarod. Of course. He practically lived here for a week. He wanted me to teach him everything I knew."
"And did you?"
"As much as I could. He just absorbed everything I said." Lee shook his head. "Jarod was a natural, both at meditation and at the martial arts. I could have sworn he had previous training, but he denied it."
Broots looked around nervously at the many sharp objects on the walls, then tried to refocus on Lee. Lyle was asking him another question.
"What was Jarod like when he was here?"
"He was kind, gentle, but there was something that was gnawing away at him."
"Rage?" Lyle asked.
He shook his head. "No. More like guilt."
"What if I told you that Jarod left your classes and raped and murdered twenty women ?" Lyle watched closely for a reaction.
Lee stared at Lyle in shock. "I'd say that you're crazy. Jarod could never do that."
***
Hospital
"We’ve given Jarod a powerful psychotropic drug that should inhibit his innate talents. In theory, this will control him." The doctor finished his spiel, then turned to Sydney for comment.
"Excellent," remarked the psychiatrist. "Have you located the extent of influence that this disorder has had on his system ?"
"Yes, and we've even pinpointed the exact location of the trauma that initiated this erratic behaviour."
"Go on."
"Here at Mercy, we have the most cutting edge technology in terms of the mind. We've run many experiments on memory, emotion, and the effects that it can have on a person's state of mind."
Miss Parker made known her presence. "Get the hell on with it. What's wrong with him?"
The doctor glared at her. "As I was saying, a specific point of time radically altered his entire mental well being. "
"When ?" asked Sydney.
"Last Thursday, at 12:15 p.m." the doctor finished smugly. "At that point in time, Jarod lost control of himself."
***
That injection hurt. It will take some time to regain my power. But I will rise again. I will have my venegeance.
Anonymous
Why, Syd? All those years spent trapped like a lab rat, examined under the microscopes of Raines and the Triumvirate. All those years, those wasted years.
I'm gone now. Catch me if you can.
I dropped the red notebook onto the floor of my latest lair. The dark, dank atmosphere had depressed me initially, but now it seems to fit my state of mind. I am an animal, escaping back into the earth, back to nature.
I picked the book back up. The red paper feels rough to my hands, but it is a familiar feeling. I glanced over to the silver case that held my life at the Centre. The DSA's hold my past, but what holds my present? I turn the notebook over in his hands, examining the cover. Perhaps it is time for a new method of storing my life.
I stand up and toss the notebook into my bag.
***
Jarod Freud enters the beautifully decorated office. I am him, myself for once. Everywhere I look, perfectly grained oak assaults my senses. I casually cross over to the couch and lay down. She looks so much like the one at the asylum. It is a comfort to me.
"What do you want to talk about, Jarod?" Her voice is similar to the other shrink's.
I can't help myself. I have to look over to her. "I want others to know what I have done." There. It's out.
"You mean those…'pretends'?"
The clinical disapproval in her voice hurts. "My young life was captured on film, but there's no record for now."
She scribbles on her notepad. "Perhaps you need someone to praise your actions."
She is so wrong. "No, that's not it. I spent my entire life without positive reinforcement. I don't need it now." The ceiling is white, not that imitation oak.
"Perhaps you need some way to express yourself, Jarod. Have you ever considered a journal?"
***
Here I am, Sydney. She decided that it would be "therapeutic" for me to write in this journal. She said that I should just write as thoughts come into my head. Perhaps she is right, maybe it will help me.
It hurts, Sydney. Love burns, love destroys, love pillages. Why then, do people continue to fall in love? I see people, Sydney, people who would do anything for love, but when they get it, they hate it.
Hate. There's a powerful emotion. An equivalent to love, only the dark side of it. Someone told me that emotions are neither positive nor negative, it's only how you use them. But I find that any emotions leads to evil. Where is the check and balance? Where is the sanity in all of this?
Sanity! Ha! I exist on the very brink of sanity, Sydney. You and your Centre colleagues saw to that. I cannot be fully sane. I cannot lead a normal life, not with my gift. How can someone like myself not help those who need it? I defend the weak and abused, those unfortunate souls snared by the evil surrounding them.
My life ended the moment the Centre stole me from my parents. You killed me, Sydney. I cannot live. I am a pretender, a "genius". I can do anything, except live as a human. I am an alien, a foreigner to this world. I watched this show called the X-files. It epitomizes me. I am the alien, the force that people fear.
An alien without a home, my only refuge is you. You exist as my link between this world and my sanity. If I never thank you, let me do it now.
Being a pretender is. No object, no existence other than that which exists. I have no identity, no sense of myself. My values were Centre instilled, my life a mere recording of a young boy who lived others' lives. When will Jarod exist? Will I exist after Jarod is found? Or is Jarod a figment of someone else's reality?
Do you know what it is like to not know, Sydney? What is life without a life to live? Where do I begin? End? Is there anything, Sydney?
I have to go. Duty as a pretender calls. Only now do I really exist.
***
Yoga Class, Chicago.
I popped a Pez into my mouth and assumed the classic lotus position. The yoga instructor stood in front of our class. He is a well-built Asian with a smile lurking in his eyes. I know his name, but this instructor is not my concern.
I have to let myself go, float deeper into my soul. My thoughts swim in a murky current that slowly runs from my body into the earth beneath me. The sugar on my tongue links me to reality, but as it dissolves in my mouth, I begin to lose myself.
I was surprised to discover that this is amazingly similar to pretending. All I have to do is lose myself. When you don't really exist, there isn't much to lose. My family runs across my eyelids. They are the only thing I can't lose, no matter how hard I try.
His voice draws me back to reality. My eyes are like lead weights, yet I manage to open them. Not surprisingly, it is dark outside. Every day I improve.
Lee smiles at me. "You beat yesterday's time, Jarod. Seven hours today."
Of course I beat it. Nevertheless, I remain cordial. "Thanks." He leaves me alone with my thoughts. I am here for a reason, Sydney. Lee has also agreed to instruct me in the martial arts. I plan to pick up my black belt by next week, then I will be ready for my next pretend.
The red notebook glares at me from behind my bag. This is one pretend that will have to wait.
I failed her once. That is enough. I read her story in the newspaper. She had been the victim of a brutal attack. Now she is trying to pull her life back together. But he is still out there.
And I will repay. I swear it.
***
Chicago apartment
I cannot eat, cannot sleep. She is on my mind again. God only knows what brings this on. Whoever said it was a love-hate relationship was a prophet. She represents the end of freedom, the conclusion. Yet she also means the beginning, the first kiss, the girl that I first knew.
You know the pain, Sydney. I know of your son and secret love. You know. Does she know, Sydney? The angel of my dreams too often is a demon tormenting my soul. I cannot sleep. She consumes me, and we are hundreds of miles apart. What will I do when we meet face to face, hunted and huntress?
***
Ten hours this time. Lee is amazed at my progress, both at the meditation, and at the martial arts. I am soon ready. Two days. Then I will avenge.
***
Downtown
There he is. I have followed him for days, but he has no pattern. I cannot bear to become him, so I follow. Each day he finds another victim and jots them down in his notebook. It must have a hundred potential women in it. I find myself hating him. I can't explain it, I just do.
The winter wind is bitter against my skin. Tomorrow I will get a warmer jacket, but tonite I am on my own. This bastard will pay for his crimes.
And I will make him pay. For Marie. For the dozen others. For me.
***
I can't find him. He's gone, probably to visit one of his "potentials". I finally realize why I hate him so much. He represents everything that is wrong in this world, the evil, the oppression, the death. No one cares about the little guy anymore.
They're wrong. I care. I care about everyone, everything. I defend the weak and abused. I am too late, Sydney. Too late for Marie, for Karyn, for Jenny, for Angie. For countless others before I heard. He will be stopped, even if I must kill again. And I will kill him. Nothing will stop me
***.
Streets
He is gone. God help me, Sydney, he is gone! I can't find any trace of him. Not one hair, or track in this snow. I need help. They need help. I don't know her name, Sydney, but she needs my help. I feel so damn powerless, there's nothing I can do. Where is he?
I cannot sleep until I find him. I will find him- won't I? There's only one thing left to do. I must become him. It frightens me, but for Marie's sake, I will.
***
Apartment
I'm losing myself in the pretend. It always happens, but this time it feels wrong. I cannot fit. I cannot feel his thoughts. Something is wrong. Sydney, help me!
Something is wrong. So wrong.
I can feel it now. And it feels good.
***
Streets
There she is. The object of my affection. It is so easy. A simple step behind her. A hand over her mouth. A gun in her back. She's mine now.
I feel it. Throbbing, pulsing, pounding. Is this evil ? It cannot. It feels so right. This is what I am. Not the weakling before. Defender of the weak and abused. Ha! There's a reason the weak perish. Man must move forward. They must become gods like me.
I am a god. I need no one, nothing. I am…
Why do I write in this? Why?
***
The Centre
"The Triumvirate is putting a lot of pressure on me to find Jarod." Lyle paced his sister's office.
The smirk on her face was unmistakable. "You poor baby."
He ignored her. "They've authorized the use of Angelo."
"Ooh- be sure to send them a thank you note."
Lyle poked his finger in Parker's face. "I'm trying to do my job. Something you should consider. Sis."
***
SL-5
"Angelo, I want you to search all of the national news- look for any tragedies or possible wrongs to be righted."
Angelo picked up the box of Cracker Jack that Lyle had left. He inspected the caramel corn, then popped one into his mouth. He enjoyed the loud crunch and the sweet taste on his tongue. "Why?"
Lyle turned at the door. "We need to find Jarod."
Angelo shrugged, then turned to the twin monitors on the desk.
***
Sydney's office
She strode assuredly into the psychiatrist's office. "Brother dearest is feeling pressure from the Big Three to retrieve Jarod."
Sydney swiveled away from his computer. "Why the sudden increased interest in Jarod?"
Parker reached autonomously for her cigarette case before her brain caught up with her actions. "Damn. That's the ten thousand dollar question, Syd." She turned to the technician failing to hide in the corner.
"Broots, I want you to cling to Angelo. Whatever he discovers, I want to know it first. We will get to the bottom of this."
***
I've scored three today. Their faces. Oh yes, the look of pure horror on their faces- it feeds me, consumes me. Terror is my servant, my slave. I enslave others, imprison their souls. Their bodies serve mine, yet I rely on their fear to sustain me. The count has climbed to seventeen. I've beat that other bastard. I am god.
***
Lyle carefully unwound the bandage from his hand. His thumb had begun to bleed again, and that worried him. He dropped the bloodied bandages into the wastebasket. A noise at the entryway spun him around.
"Admiring your handiwork?"
He glared at his sister. "What the hell do you want?"
"Angelo had an extreme reaction to one of the newspapers. I thought you might be interested."
"After you've already dispatched a team, I'm sure."
She flashed her brilliantly white teeth. "Of course. Our plane leaves in an hour."
***
I sent the police a tip. Now he is in custody. Now I rule supreme over this town. Two more today.
***
Lyle slid into the comfortable first class seat. He tucked a pillow behind his head and reached for the inflight magazine. Her hand stalled his.
"Not now, little brother. We have things to discuss."
Lyle snorted, then grabbed the magazine. "We find him. We capture him. Where's the discussion?"
She snaked her body around the seat and snatched the magazine from his hand. "Jarod is not an idiot like some thumbless and brainless morons I know. He will have an escape plan, and will implement it as soon as he sees trouble."
"Fine. Don't show him any trouble." He pulled the magazine from her hand. "Now let me rest."
Parker walked back to her seat. "It's pointless, Syd. He has his head so far stuck up his ass that he won't even listen to me."
Sydney chuckled. "I think that the fact that you're telling him has some impact on his actions."
"Fine. Take his side."
"Now, Miss Parker, I'm not taking sides. However, you are beginning to sound like a spoiled child."
She ignored the last comment. "What was it that Angelo reacted to?"
Sydney pulled out a file from his briefcase, and scanned it quickly. "Apparently there has been a rash of abductions and rapes in the Chicago area. The same MO, a stalking, then a grab and a kill. Twenty-one young women have been killed in a span of a month."
She snorted. "I'm surprised its taken your wonder boy this long to figure it out."
***
There is this face in my mind. I don't know who it is, but I must have her. She is the one I am searching for. I may keep her alive to amuse me. One thing is for certain. She is mine.
***
Chicago
Miss Parker stepped out of O'Hare airport to be greeted by the bitter wind. She threw her bags into the trunk of the Centre car. Broots and Sydney sat down in the back, while Lyle opted for the driver's seat.
She shook her head. "Like hell. Get your ass on the other side." She waited for him to move, then slid into the seat. The Town car screeched away from the curb, quickly making its way to the Hilton.
***
She still plagues my thoughts, but I have other possibilities. There is one now. Named Sara Kennedy, waitress. 5'10", beautiful hazel eyes. Newest interest. Mine.
***
Broots set up the laptop and plugged into the police network. He wasn't rejoicing over his roommate, but Miss Parker had insisted that Lyle stay in his room. It wasn't any of his business, but he wondered how she and her brother would handle being in the same room for more than ten minutes. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be there when it happened.
"Uh… there's no new reports on the police scanner. Looks like a pretty calm night."
Lyle glanced over to the tech. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
***
She made sure that the door was locked, then proceeded to strip down to shower. Sydney wasn't her ideal roommate, but he was a hell of a lot better than the simian next door, either one of them. She smiled.
***
I feel the smile on my face as I close in. There. Add one more to my total.
***
Broots smiled as he entered the virtual world he had created online. Numerous gamers had logged on trying to overthrow his domain and rescue the beautiful princess enslaved in his castle. They had failed.
His computer beeped rudely at him as it opened a new window on top of his kingdom. Broots scanned the information, then hesitantly shook Lyle awake. "There's been another murder."
***
Sydney opened the door as Broots banged loudly on the oak. "What is it, Broots?"
The technician stumbled over his words. "There…there's been another…incident."
Sydney frowned. "Where?"
Broots leaned against the bathroom door. "Over in downtown Chicago…near the lake." He fell hard onto the tiled floor as the door swung open. "What the…"
He opened his eyes and looked up at Miss Parker, clad only in a bathrobe.
"Uhh…"
***
Apartment
I wash the blood from my hands, filling the basin with scalding hot water. She was a true prize, Sara. Too bad I had to kill her. We could have had something special.
***
Parker strode authoritatively onto the crime scene. She grabbed a passing officer. "Who's in charge?"
"Special Agent Shorpe over there, Ma'am."
She made her way over to the tall dark-haired FBI agent. "Agent Shorpe?"
"Yes?" He turned around. "Parker? Is that you?" His face split wide open in a hearty grin.
"Tom? It is you! How are things?"
"I'd feel better if we could catch this sick bastard. He's killed at least twenty women. We thought we had him, even had our suspect in our jail, but then these last five happened." He shook his head sadly.
"I see they brought in the big guns for this one. FBI, huh?"
"Yeah. God, it's good to see you, Parker. What brings you here?" He ran his hands through his light brown hair.
"I'm looking for someone that I believe is working with you." She pulled a picture of Jarod from her coat pocket. "Can you tell me where he is?"
"Can't say that I can. Do you have a name?"
"Jarod. No known last name."
"Sorry, babe. Can't help you there." He motioned to another officer. "Wrap it up, Dennis." His attention returned to her. "Have any plans for tonight?"
Parker looked over her shoulder to where Broots, Sydney and Lyle were standing. "No, not really."
He smiled again. "Great. How's dinner sound?"
She looked down at her watch. "At three in the morning?"
"Hey, we never were an ordinary couple. See you in a bit." He walked off to finish his report. She turned on her heel and strode over to the rest of her team.
Sydney treated her with a disapproving look. "We're here for business, Parker, not pleasure."
"Wonder boy's not here, Syd. I'm not going to let that stop me from having some fun." She glared at the group. "You three can work your asses off. " With that, she walked back over to the FBI agent.
***
Apartment
That was too close. They are closing in. HA! They think that they can catch me. Never. She was there. The one from my dreams, my nightmares. I must have her. She is next.
***
Hotel
"Is she always like that?" Lyle asked incredulously.
"That's the Ice Queen for you." Broots laughed, then added nervously, "I didn't really mean that about your…uh…."
Lyle smiled. "No offense taken, Mr. Broots. My dear sister and I are not exactly the closest of family."
Sydney chuckled. "Your whole family is a perfect study in abnormal psychology."
***
C'est Magnifique, Chicago
Tom sipped his red wine delicately, the cool beverage flooding his taste buds. His eyes, too drank, but of a different draught. She was beautiful, as beautiful as when they had first met in Washington, D.C. They had both been there for a security conference, but they ended up attending less of the conference than either had intended. His boss had not been happy.
"What are you up to, Parker?"
Her body was draped with silk, the one amenity she took everywhere she traveled. Her mouth smiled at him. "I told you. I'm looking for that man, Jarod."
"Why did you think he worked with me?" His inquisitiveness had earned him the reputation of a bloodhound among his fellow agents. And something smelled here.
She sighed. "Can this wait? We haven't seen each other in…"
He cut her off. "You're right. How about you personally, Parker? Seeing anyone?"
"Damn bloodhound." She laughed. "I've missed you."
"Sure you have. I'm positive there have been plenty of other dashing men ready to leap at your every whim. Hell, even in D.C. there were guys drooling over you, and I was right there. Don't tell me you missed me."
"Fine. I haven't missed you. There has been a line a mile long to get into my bed every evening, and it shows no sign of abating. Some of them are quite handsome. In fact, you should have seen the one last night…"
"Alright, you win. Now shut up and eat."
***
Outside
Who is she with? Damn him, whoever he is. But I can feel it pulsing tonite. It will soon be my time. She will soon be mine. He will die. Slowly. Painfully. Then will I be complete.
***
Hotel
"Shall I walk you to your door?"
Parker smiled , then drew him close. Their mouths met briefly, then parted. "I can manage. Thanks."
He walked away, but couldn't help glancing over his shoulder as he went. She turned the key, opened the door and walked in.
FBI agent Shorpe grinned widely. Tomorrow was another day.
Not for you… My blade snaps out with a move of my wrist. He hears it, but cannot turn in time. It is too easy, so I throw the knife to the ground and lash out with a crescent kick to rid him of his gun. The Sig clatters against the icy ground at the same moment my instep collides with his temple. Still too easy. This shitbag is worthless. But I can use him…
***
"Where have you been ?" Lyle shot her an accusatory look.
"None of your business, little brother." She tossed her purse onto the bed. Her head ached from the wine and stress of chasing the Centre's boy. "What the hell are you doing in my room, anyways?"
Sydney spoke up. "We felt it would be best to plan tomorrow's activities."
"Are we a tour group now?" The sarcasm she had withheld the entire evening bubbled out. "Angelo screwed up. Jarod's not here, and by tomorrow night, I won't either."
"Maybe Jarod's not involved in the pursuit," Broots interjected.
She rolled her eyes. "Obviously not."
"But maybe he's involved somehow else…like in a hospital or trauma unit."
Lyle nodded. "Good thought, Broots. Get on it first thing in the morning."
Sydney shook his head. "It's not like Jarod to be so passive when there is a problem. I just don't understand it."
Parker had had enough. "Get out. NOW!"
The phone rang.
***
Apartment
I have him, I want you. I've seen you. I want you. With me. Now.
***
"What do you mean, Parker?" The Belgian looked up in surprise.
She shook her head, as if trying to grasp what she had just heard. "He wants me in exchange for Tom's life."
Lyle's concern unsettled her almost as much as the call. "Who wants you?"
Parker shivered violently. "He said that he was god, and that no one was ever going to catch him." And I believe him. She didn't add her thoughts.
Broots stared at the phone as if it were some demonic force. "The killer?"
Sydney leaned back in the leather chair. "How does he know you?"
"He must have seen us together tonight. I'm the meat of choice for the day." She walked over to the closet and pulled out the black leather bag that came standard with all Centre vehicles. Her hand dipped in and dug out twin Sigs, and her Lady Smith and Wesson.
"Oh no. You can't possibly expect to meet him." Lyle's tone had just a touch of caring in it.
"I have to." She traced the barrel of the gun with her finger. She pocketed several clips and made her way to the door.
"Parker !" She turned around slowly.
Lyle grabbed one of the weapons. "We're going with you."
***
Lake Michigan
She agreed, but I can't trust her. I know that much. She'll have help. But I am god. I can have her, own her, feel her. Tonite.
I wait for her. She will come, I know it. He's in the car parked near the dock, bound and gagged. I won't need him.
I spy the towncar pulling up now. She steps out, clad in a black overcoat that conceals her legs. In Chicago, a mini skirt is suicide. Does she know that this is the end for her?
I hope so.
***
"Where the hell is he?," she hissed down to Sydney in the car. They had decided that he would be the least threatening to whoever was out there.
"Biding his time, Parker. He has all night if he wants."
***
Lyle and Broots were in the other car, an old clunker that they had rented just for tonight. Broots was fiddling nervously with his firearm, a sight that lent no confidence to Lyle. They waited.
***
Do they think that I don’t see the others? I do. But they matter not. They can not see me. No one can see me.
***
Are you ready?
She jumps. They all do. Her gun is out before I'm finished speaking. It is out of her hand in seconds. My hand easily imprisons her. She can't see me, and it scares her.
The fear is flowing now, I can taste it, smell it.
"Sydney…" He is out of the car faster than I had anticipated. He too, has a gun. He too, loses it. I laugh, but time is running short. I shove her into the car, send the other flying with a kick. I can feel the others running towards me… A step, and I am in the car beside her. My mind locks hers until she can not move. My powers grow, but now I cannot relish it. A foot on the pedal, and it is done.
***
"Damn it!" Lyle let loose with a dozen epithets meant for the abductor, the abductor's mother, and anyone else missed in the first two categories.
He helped Sydney up. "Are you alright?"
The dazed psychiatrist nodded his head slowly. "What was that?"
Lyle shook his head. "We couldn't see- what did he look like?"
Sydney looked at Lyle curiously. "look like…what did he look like?" He dropped his head to his chest. "I…don't know."
Lyle left Broots to take care of Sydney and instead walked over to the car. He grasped the tracking unit that followed the Towncar's location. It was heading south at near impossible speeds on the icy ground. Lyle pulled the car over near to the others and hauled them into the back seat.
***
Apartment
She is still in fear. Her face is flushed and her pupils dilated. I can hear her pulse pounding from across the room. The man is in the other room. I will deal with him later.
I can feel her heat, too. It excites me, enthralls me. I am now complete, perfect. She shies away from me as I approach. She still cannot see me through my guise. I want her to see me. I sit on the bed she lies on. No restraints are necessary, only her fear.
Her eyes, her beautiful eyes try to focus on my image, try to find me among the darkness of my soul. She narrows her eyes, and I lose myself in those orbs. Her fear is dissipating. Anger, a far more sinister emotion takes its place.
I cannot lose her, I know that much now. I must rekindle her fear, so I bring him out. Her eyes widen at his visage. Blood still flows from the blows I dealt him outside the hotel, obscuring his image. She sees him, then turns and blasphemes me.
I pull a knife from my belt and play with it in front of his eyes. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. I drive it easily into his stomach. She screams. I like that. The blade transverses his torso, up to the base of his throat. I dally there, drawing blood. Sadly, there is not much left in him.
The fear is back, accompanied with rage. But the fear is back. I control again. The corpse slumps to the floor. I sit back with a sketchpad and outline her body on the paper. The terror in her eyes is my goal.
***
Chicago
Lyle pulled the junk heap to a stop. The towncar sat pristinely in the parking lot of the apartment complex. He counted the lights on in the building. Five apartments that she could be in. She wasn't on his list of favorite people, but no one deserved what that bastard had done.
He made his way up the stairs, then paused at the second floor. He glanced over to Sydney, who shook his head.
"These people love high places. All the way to the top."
***
The fear is subsiding now. I haven't harmed her, and she knows it. Now is the time, to rekindle the terror in her beautiful eyes. It rises as I again walk over to the bed. I tie her hands together. She can offer no resistance.
But I can't. Her eyes control me as my mind controls hers. She can hold a whole man's life in those spheres of light and darkness. I brush those warm eyes with my cold lips. She shivers with my touch, but I can not touch her again.
The door ! It flies open…Who dares to interrupt me?
It is the other, the one in the other car. He has a gun in his hand. I can but laugh. This gun shall do no harm. I move to remove it, but she stops me. I can feel her mind fighting me, and those eyes…help me, those eyes drag me down into herself.
The gun…
***
Lyle squeezed the trigger twice and watched with satisfaction as the dark wraith went down. He shivered as he looked down at the ghostly figure on the floor. It was slowly becoming more visible, more distinct. Lyle strode quickly over to his sister and loosed her bonds.
"Are you okay?"
She, too, shivered. Her mind was again her own. She looked over to the two bodies on the floor, one a friend, the other a killer. "I think so."
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Sydney asked.
"No…he didn't have time. " She looked up at Lyle. "Thanks."
Broots stood nervously over the downed figure. "Uh, Sydney, Miss Parker, you'd better see this."
They turned, and walked over. Its face was becoming clear now. Sydney stared at the face as it emerged.
"Oh my God." Parker clapped her hand across her mouth. "It's Jarod."
***
Where am I? White surrounds me, is this death ? Am I now truly god ?
There are voices, voices of pain, quiet voices that soothe each other. I can hear her voice. I move…something holds me down, restrains me. No matter.
I lose myself, lose reality, until I exist elsewhere, elsewhere I can move. Now I find myself again, drag myself into the world where everyone else exists.
There is shock again on that pretty face, and horror in the men's faces. I struggle to reach to them, but I am… weak…too weak.
***
Jarod collapsed onto the floor. Sydney was by his side in an instant. "Nurses !"
They too, rushed in. Two men and a woman helped hoist him onto the bed and refasten his restraints. The doctor strode in. "What the hell happened ?"
Sydney glanced up at him. "Somehow he escaped from the restraints."
Miss Parker sat down beside Sydney. "He is stronger now, stronger than even last night."
Lyle sank down into a deep leather chair. He rubbed his brow tiredly. "Where the hell did Jarod learn his new tricks?"
"This is an unprecedented turn in the Pretender project." Sydney glanced over to the unconscious Jarod. "There has never been a Prodigy who has demonstrated these talents. Other projects have exhibited similar talents, but not to this degree."
"We need to find the one who taught him." Parker stood up and left the room "Somehow."
***
Yoga class
"Are you sure this is the place, Broots?" Lyle asked.
"The apartment that Jarod was staying at had materials from here, so it seemed logical." Broots stammered.
Lyle walked across the padded floor to where a man sat meditating. "Hello?"
He looked up. "Can I help you?"
"We're looking for this man. Have you seen him?" Lyle pulled a picture from his pocket.
"Jarod. Of course. He practically lived here for a week. He wanted me to teach him everything I knew."
"And did you?"
"As much as I could. He just absorbed everything I said." Lee shook his head. "Jarod was a natural, both at meditation and at the martial arts. I could have sworn he had previous training, but he denied it."
Broots looked around nervously at the many sharp objects on the walls, then tried to refocus on Lee. Lyle was asking him another question.
"What was Jarod like when he was here?"
"He was kind, gentle, but there was something that was gnawing away at him."
"Rage?" Lyle asked.
He shook his head. "No. More like guilt."
"What if I told you that Jarod left your classes and raped and murdered twenty women ?" Lyle watched closely for a reaction.
Lee stared at Lyle in shock. "I'd say that you're crazy. Jarod could never do that."
***
Hospital
"We’ve given Jarod a powerful psychotropic drug that should inhibit his innate talents. In theory, this will control him." The doctor finished his spiel, then turned to Sydney for comment.
"Excellent," remarked the psychiatrist. "Have you located the extent of influence that this disorder has had on his system ?"
"Yes, and we've even pinpointed the exact location of the trauma that initiated this erratic behaviour."
"Go on."
"Here at Mercy, we have the most cutting edge technology in terms of the mind. We've run many experiments on memory, emotion, and the effects that it can have on a person's state of mind."
Miss Parker made known her presence. "Get the hell on with it. What's wrong with him?"
The doctor glared at her. "As I was saying, a specific point of time radically altered his entire mental well being. "
"When ?" asked Sydney.
"Last Thursday, at 12:15 p.m." the doctor finished smugly. "At that point in time, Jarod lost control of himself."
***
That injection hurt. It will take some time to regain my power. But I will rise again. I will have my venegeance.
