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Author's Chapter Notes:

Hello everyone!

This part is a little longer than most, but this is for a reason. This part concludes the first section of this story, so it was necessary to add in a little more movement of the characters, and a little more involvement by most.

We will soon be heading into much deeper waters… I hope you enjoy the ride!

As always, thank you for reading. Reviews would be absolutely lovely!

Finally, I have taken some liberties with locations in this piece. I created this “house” of Major Charles just south of Raleigh, NC, and have now sent them on a journey to a small town in Georgia. The streets do exist, and the directions are accurate. However, as for the houses, airports, restaurants, et cetera that may be discussed – these are merely figments of my somewhat disturbed imagination (unless otherwise noted).


Part Eight

Wrapping the terry cloth robe tighter around her body, Parker listened as the chatter from her bedroom grew more fluid. She could hear Debbie’s voice, the young girl carrying the weight of the conversation. Curiosity piqued, she slowly pushed the bathroom door open and stepped into the room.

The girl was sitting on the freshly made bed with Jim. Her smile was bright and his expression was nothing short of intrigued.

“Miss Parker!” Jim exclaimed. “I’m sorry…” he began, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and the hands she had wrapped around herself.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she smiled slightly, waving a hand toward them. “What is so interesting?”

“N-nothing,” the clone began, glancing quickly to Debbie.

The girl, however, was much less hesitant. “Jim was curious about us,” she shrugged.

“Us?” the brunette questioned, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she opened the closet door, stepping inside the small room to select an outfit from the meager travel wardrobe she had packed.

Debbie looked back to Jim, gaze piercing, as she tilted her head to the right. Jim cleared his throat then began. “I.. I was curious as to how you knew Debbie, what you were like, if you had family other than Ethan. Debbie said you took care of her when her father was out of town and that you gave her a book about young women.”

“Little Women,” she corrected. “I brought it with me, if you want to read it.”

Miss Parker reemerged from the closet having slipped into a black knee-length skirt and burgundy blouse. “I’m not sure Jim would find the book quite as interesting as we do, Debbie.”

“I would like to read it,” Jim interrupted, “if you don’t mind. I don’t know much about women, it might be educational.”

Miss Parker chuckled, while Debbie rolled her eyes. “It’s a fun book, Jim, not like assigned reading! Besides, half the fun is having someone to read it with. Will you read it with us, Miss Parker? You do Jo so well!”

With an even wider smile, Parker replied, “I think we can manage that. Maybe we’ll start it tonight before bed.” Sitting at the vanity, she lifted her brush to her hair before beginning again, “So Jim, what other questions do you have?”

Frowning nervously, the boy fidgeted with the cover in his hands. “When you came to see me in my room – before, at the Centre… you were seeing Jarod,” he stated. “He was the boy you cared for.”

“When I first saw you, at the Centre,” Miss Parker spoke, voice low and calm, “it was through a wall of glass. For that moment, I was seeing Jarod. But as I watched you, I realized you were an entirely different person. Same genetics, yes, but a different person. And when I came to your room to take you away, I saw you, not Jarod.” She shifted to brush the other side of her hair, glancing at her image in the mirror.

“I think it is hard for Dad, sometimes. He sees Jarod too.”

“Your father… is as much a victim of the Centre as Jarod or you, but in a different way. His children were stolen. All of his sons, even one he did not know existed. But he loves you, Jim, for who you are, not for who Jarod is or was or could have been.”

Nodding, the boy pointed out, “You too. You’re a victim of the Centre just like us.”

Chuckling wryly, she sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m the victim or the perpetrator. The Centre made me what I am, just as it did with Jarod. I’m not sure which is worse: knowing you are trapped in a cage, or thinking you have all of the freedom in the world, only to find out you have always been trapped in a cage.”

“Maybe they’re just different?” Debbie piped up, only partially understanding the conversation.

“Maybe,” Parker nodded, placing the brush on the vanity. Turning on the bench to face them, she placed her hands on her knees, looking expectantly at Jim.

“In the bathroom, you were crying,” the young boy stated. “Why? Because of what the Centre has done, creating another child?” The two children watched her waiting for a response. Debbie’s eyes were large and uncertain, Jim’s curious and confused.

“How do you know I was crying?” she responded, eyes shifting between the children.

“Your eyes are red,” he replied.

Blinking hard, Parker swallowed. “I was thinking about my mother,” she fibbed. “Wishing she were here.”

“What is it like, having a mother?” Jim asked, oblivious to the partial lie. “What was she like?”

Smiling softly, Miss Parker stood, walking to sit on the bed between the children. “My mother…” she sighed, “my mother was smart and gentle; she was compassionate and she loved children. She loved me.”

“And she looked just like you!” Debbie inserted.

“Yes,” Parker smiled, placing an arm around Debbie’s shoulder. “She looked just like me… and she always made me feel safe, loved.” Leaning back against the headboard, she chuckled as Debbie flung herself out beside her, head propped against a pillow and curled on her side. Jim studied these actions with interest. Miss Parker nodded to him, and he did much the same on the opposite side of her. After a quick wink at Debbie, she turned to Jim. “And she could make me laugh…”

“Did she tell you funny stories? Dad’s been teaching me how to tell jokes!” Jim informed them, curling his right hand under the pillow at his head.

“Sometimes,” Parker nodded, shifting toward him. “And sometimes, she did this!” Without warning, the woman and the girl moved as if in concert, fingers digging into the boy’s sides. In just seconds, he was giggling uproariously and gasping for breath, rolling to try to evade their fingertips.

--

The noise from upstairs reached the kitchen as it rose to a crescendo, causing Sydney to raise an eyebrow at Major Charles, who was seated across from him at the table. Between them lay several files and a wildly-spread slew of papers. To Sydney’s left sat a DSA case and a stack of several DSAs. All of the paperwork and DSAs, Sydney had explained to the Major, must have come from Angelo. He had only found the information upon opening his briefcase at home the night before he, Broots, and Debbie had departed for Ben’s. Broots had checked the information and the briefcase for trackers and listening devices before they had departed for the airport.

Major Charles let out a short laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “Being away from the Centre has allowed him to become a child in some ways. In others, he is more of an adult than he has any right to be at thirteen.”

Nodding, Sydney answered, “I’m afraid that is not particularly surprising.” Shifting in his chair, the psychiatrist clasped his hands together and began again. “Had I known the Centre intended to create a clone of Jarod, I would have found a way to stop it. Parker, however, would probably have beat me to it.”

“Thirteen years ago she wasn’t even at the Centre,” the Major pointed out. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t know, and I’m glad Jim is here. I wish the Centre had never had him in their clutches, but I’m glad they created him. He is my son.”

Again, Sydney nodded. “I hope Miss Parker feels the same.”

“I have only been around her for a few days,“ Major Charles remarked, “but I believe it is safe to say that she already does. She is her mother’s daughter.”

“Yes,” the other man agreed. Further conversation was halted by the tapping of Miss Parker’s heels as she climbed down the stairs, Jim at her heels.

“Syd, Major. Debbie is taking a shower,” she informed them.

“You know, Parker, you could call me Charles,” the man seated in front of her stated. He watched as the corner of her mouth tipped upward.

“I could,” she replied amiably, “but I’m so used to calling you Major. Where are the others?”

Sydney cocked his head toward the back door, “Ben wanted to go for a walk to see the grounds and Broots decided to join them. They’ll be back before lunch to finish their packing.”

Miss Parker glanced around the kitchen, eyes not settling in one place for very long. She released a small sigh, finding herself unusually melancholy at the idea of leaving this place that looked and felt so much like her mother’s home. Major Charles stood from his chair and placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing lightly against it as encouragement for her to take his seat.

“Dad?” Jim asked, the chair beside the one in which Sydney was seated dragging along the floor. As soon as it was pulled a few feet from the table, Jim threw himself against the seat. “Is everyone ticklish? I didn’t know I was!”

“I don’t know, son,” Major Charles smiled, hand still on Miss Parker’s shoulder. “There are probably a few people who aren’t. You could always do some research.”

Jim glanced warily at Sydney, gaze turning mischievous as it landed on Parker.

“Not a good idea, kid!” Parker spoke, catching the meaning of his gaze. “We Parkers hold grudges forever! Besides, remember who taught you what being ticklish was in the first place. I know all the good spots.” For good measure, she stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

Astonished, Jim looked at his father. “Dad!”

The old man tilted his head back, laughing heartily. “Be careful, Jim, I think she has you there. This one could teach you a lot about how to have fun.”

“And create havoc,” Sydney offered. “She once freed two labs full of animals that were to be used as test subjects for arthritis drugs. All because of one bunny! You were what, 12?”

“11,” she defended. “They were going to kill them, Syd.”

“No, Miss Parker,” a small smile on his lips, “that wasn’t the intent. You are right, however, some would likely have died. At any rate, she lets this bunny go, then proceeds to free cages of white rats, lab mice, three cats and seven dogs of varying sizes. The bunny hops into an office and starts munching on one of the technicians’ newspapers, a relatively harmless act. When the technician returned to find the bunny and his shredded papers, he lost all sense of propriety and started swatting and screaming at the poor animal, causing the lab techs in the offices nearby to come running. The chaos caused the rats, which were becoming adventurous, to freeze in fear, then run. This caught the attention of the cats, which managed to alert the dogs. Needless to say, a friendly petting zoo was not the result of the fracas!”

“I swear I saw steam coming out of Raines’ ears,” she grinned. “Of course,” her words sobered, “he immediately blamed Jarod, so I turned myself in. Daddy was not pleased.” Miss Parker’s expression fluctuated between a frown and a grimace. “I would have done it again, anyway.”

“Why did you turn yourself in, if they never thought it was you?” Jim questioned, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Because you don’t let your friends take the fall for you,” she shrugged. “When I was eleven years old, Jarod and Angelo were my only friends. It wasn’t worth losing them. Jarod would have likely never told, but he would have known I let him take the punishment for something I did. To me, that was worse.”

Nodding, Jim smiled. “In other words, I should not make you angry because you will tickle me until I cry and then release any and all pets into the hallways?”

Laughing to herself, Parker nodded, catching Major Charles’ and Sydney’s grins in her peripheral vision. “Something like that, kid.”

--

“This is a beautiful place,” Ben commented, sliding his hand over the branch of an Evergreen. The needles left a fine sap on the pads of his fingers, so he rubbed them together and breathed in the pine scent.

“Yes,” Ethan nodded. “Father will be sad to leave it. Jarod drew the plans and located the property, but my father oversaw the building and chose every plank of wood and every block of stone.”

“How long have you lived here?” Broots asked, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stumbled over a tree root. “Oof.”

“Careful, Mr. Broots,” Ben steadied him with one hand, barely sparing a look in his direction.

“As long as I’ve known him,” Ethan shrugged. “This was where he and Jim have lived since they settled in one place, after Donaterase.”

“Do you think they’ll come back here, after all of this is dealt with?” Ben inquired, matching his pace to Broots’ and Ethan’s.

Shaking his head, the youngest of the men responded, “No. No, when we leave here today… we won’t ever see it again.” Coming to a halt, he broke a Spring bloom from the tree overhead, inhaling the sweet scent of a flower he could not name. “My sister will like this.”

“How do you know?” Broots began, “Maybe… oh,” he stopped suddenly, catching Ethan’s meaningful stare. “The voices. The v…voices, they told you.”

Nodding, Ethan began walking again. “Yes. We are going somewhere safer. The Centre will not find us there.”

“But they would f…find us h…here?” Broots asked, stumbling again, this time on his own untied shoelaces.

“Given much more time,” Ethan sighed, “Yes. But we won’t be here. There won’t be anything to find.”

“What else have the voices told you?” Ben asked the question hanging in the air as the three men came back within sight of the house.

“Not much, I’m afraid. They say things in riddles, fragments, that don’t make sense until the right time,” shrugging, he picked up his pace. “They say my sister carries the key, that she is the key.”

“To what?” the computer technician asked, looking up from where he knelt, tying his left tennis shoe.

“The future,” Ethan extended his arm forward, sweeping it to the side. Moving it to the other side, he added, “the past.”

“Whose?” Ben’s voice, imbued with wisdom, broke the momentary silence that descended upon the men as they again walked toward the house.

“That,” the young man responded, fingers drifting over the petals of the flower in his other hand, “I don’t know.”

--

They had divided into groups of four. Miss Parker, Sydney, Ethan, and Jim loaded their suitcases into the first vehicle, a black SUV with tinted windows. Major Charles, Ben, Broots and Debbie crowded into the second, a similar style vehicle in a lighter shade of charcoal. With the exception of Miss Parker and Major Charles, everyone had taken their seats and gotten comfortable with trade journals, magazines and books, prepared at the Major’s insistence for a long drive to a private airstrip in Georgia.

Miss Parker leaned against the side of the gray sports utitlity vehicle, pushing her sunglasses high on her nose. The day had grown warmer than anticipated, causing her to change into a sleeveless top. Smoothing the front of the shirt down, she reached her hand forward to take the map Major Charles offered her.

“I would have installed a GPS unit for you to follow, but Jim and I decided it was better if we simply did this the old fashioned way. No chance for a tracking device.” He stood beside her, tugging lightly on the right side of the map. “There is a town southeast of Macon, Georgia called Hawkinsville. Follow Highway 26 until you reach this turn off,” he pointed to a faintly labeled road. “It will lead you to the airfield. You’ll see the barriers in grass at the end of the strip. Just follow the metal fence down and park behind the building. My friend Joey will take care of the cars once we’re gone.”

“How long is the drive?” Parker asked, squinting at the map.

“Little less than eight hours, not counting bathroom and restaurant stops. Feel free to make as many as necessary, and drive as close to the speed limit as you can. If you run into any trouble, the only cell phone number is the one I programmed into the prepaid cell that is in the glove compartment. As soon as you cross into South Carolina on I-95, throw all of your other cell phones into the trashcan at the first rest stop. Remember the diagnostic chip I showed you and Jim? Remove it as well, it can be used to track the car by insurance companies. If they can get access, so can the Centre.”

Parker nodded, closing the map and tugging her sunglasses down.

“I’ve told them not to ask where we’re going, just to trust the two of us. It makes it easier that way. You have a cooler of water and snacks in the back seat that I’m sure the boys will appreciate,” he added, smiling as she chuckled. “Jim pointed out that it would be a good idea for you to stop every few hours to walk around. Something about blood clots being caused by immobility in pregnant women. So please take a break every few hours and walk a little.”

“Don’t worry, Major Charles. Aside from the violent nausea that is determined to wake me up before dawn, I have developed a very frequent need to urinate. And if I didn’t, I’m sure the boys, with their water and sodas and snacks, will need to take a few breaks.”

This time it was his turn to nod. Pulling his own sunglasses down from their perch on his head, the Major finished giving his instructions. “It’s about eleven right now, and the drive is approximately seven and a half hours. I anticipate taking off at ten tonight, which gives us a cushion of about two and a half hours. Don’t forget to ditch the phones as soon as you cross the border into South Carolina, with the exception of the prepaid. Take breaks, call me if you run into trouble. Otherwise, we’ll see you tonight.”

Holding the folded map to her chest, Parker’s eyes flitted to the house at the other end of the driveway behind her, something she was sure the occupants of the vehicles had likely done more than once themselves.

“We’ll be about five minutes behind you,” he added, laying his hand on her forearm.

“Giving me a head start?” she asked, words spoken dryly to hide her nervousness.

“Something like that,” Major Charles smiled to her. “Now get in that SUV and go.”

“What will you do?” Miss Parker asked, resisting the small push he gave her toward the car, curling her fingers in the sleeve of his shirt.

“Make sure no one finds us,” he dipped his head toward her, gently removing his arm from her grip. “Now go, the boys don’t need to see this anymore than you do.” His smile was tight as he pulled a small remote device from the pocket of his khaki pants, antenna pointed toward the house that looked so much like home to all of them.

Eyes widening, Parker swallowed, then turned on her heel but did not move forward. Speaking over her shoulder, she said, voice low, “I’m sorry, Charles, for bringing this on you.”

Running his free hand over his face and through his hair, he took the two steps toward her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her tight against him in a careful hug. “I would have done it anyway, regardless of this,” he vowed, then just as quickly released her and pushed her toward the car.

Though the words were vague, the brunette understood his meaning, and without a word climbed into the car, slammed the door, and turned the ignition. After taking a few seconds to clear her throat and still her nervous hands, Miss Parker shifted the SUV into gear and turned out of the end of the long driveway onto Hunter Street. The irony of the name made her smile, even as her shoulders tensed with the sound of the explosion behind her.










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