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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintended by the author. "The Pretender" is a protected trademark of MTM Television and NBC and the characters of that series are used herein with no mean intent or desire for remuneration. It is, instead, a tribute to innovative television, that rare and welcome phenomenon.
Teleplay by CHRIS RUPPENTHAL
Story by STEVEN LONG MITCHELL & CRAIG W VAN SICKLE
Text version by Dragonheart
Ranger Jarod - Chapter 1
by Dragonheart
The Centre
10/1/69
"Jarod has forgotten that there are such things as females. I thought that was what you wanted -- no distractions from his work?" Sydney was frowning across his superior's desk, more displeased than usual at what he was being asked to do with the boy.
"I know we initially decided to limit his exposure to only the data needed to perform the simulations, but it seems that the scope of the boy's talents may also have use in solving cases for select members of the private sector as well. To do that, he'll have to know about the role sex plays in motivation."
Sydney sighed. "But as far as he can remember, he's never seen a female. He has no concept of reproduction. He may not even have the instincts for breeding. We've done our best to weed that sort of response out of him."
"Well then, perhaps we should put that to the test, Sydney. And I'd like some of our other scientific minds to study his reactions, just to make certain his perceptions will be on target for our future use. In the meantime, you prep Jarod with the proper materials."
Sydney's gaze wandered down to his neatly creased slacks, his polished shoes, but he did not rise from the chair.
"You wanted to say something, Sydney? An objection, perhaps?"
His eyes met those scrutinizing him from across the desk and he sighed. "No. No, that's just fine. I'll see to it right away."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
DSA - Jarod
10/7/69
Jarod approached the glass booth, taking note of the audience in front of it and the monitoring equipment behind it. Sydney followed him into the room, watching him as he always did.
"What are we doing, Sydney?" Jarod asked. It didn't look like the setup for any other simulation they had ever done together.
"It's an experiment about... sexuality," said Sydney, watching as the boy was wired with EEG and EKG monitors and shown into the booth.
"Reproduction?" asked the boy, trying to get a clear picture of what was ahead of him.
"That's one aspect of it," Sydney answered vaguely.
"I read the biology manuals." Jarod couldn't imagine what an experiment in procreation would have to do with him. He wasn't an adult, and he knew that he wasn't capable of reproduction yet. His body hadn't matured to that level, and wouldn't for several more years.
Sydney could see him thinking, trying to understand, to see where they were going. "Reading isn't quite the same as feeling." Everything was in place, all the machines functioning properly, and everyone was waiting. He could see Jarod's anxiety levels rising, a light sheen of perspiration forming on his skin, yet his heart rate and breathing were normal. The boy was nervous, apprehensive, confused about what was happening, but still in control of himself.
"I'd like you to meet someone, Jarod." Sydney signaled the man by the door in the rear of the room, and a young girl about Jarod's age strode confidently into the room. She had auburn hair and green eyes and was wearing a short navy dress that showed off her coltish legs. Sydney knew instantly who she was. Between the rows of folding chairs she walked, head up and eyes focused on the dais and the boy in the glass booth. She stepped surely up to the dais and glanced toward the doorway, and the silhouetted man who waited there.
Jarod smiled as soon as he saw her. She was beautiful, and his heart soared. She was like him! But not like him. It was wonderful. He heard the beeps from the monitors sounding faster and knew his body was responding to the excitement of this new discovery.
"You're a girl!" he blurted. He was certain she knew that already, but his embarrassment at that blunder vanished instantaneously, overwhelmed by this thrilling site before him. He put his hand up against the glass and watched the girl look at a shadowy man in the back of the room for permission before reciprocating.
"My name is Jarod. What's your name?" Jarod asked, unable to take his eyes off her face.
The girl glanced over her shoulder again. The shadow shook his head. *No.*
"Miss Parker," she answered formally.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Present
A coffee shop somewhere in the Northwest
"Will ya marry me?" The woman on the television set turned the vise again as the man beneath it cried, "Never!"
Jarod studied the black and white program intently as he sat at the counter, finishing up his meal. "They seem to be able to withstand an amazing amount of pain," he observed to the waitress as she cleared away his dishes. "People find this type of violence... funny?"
The redhead gave him a long-suffering look. "Not people. Men."
As if to illustrate that point, two men sitting just behind Jarod guffawed at the antics of the Three Stooges. The woman took note of that and returned an 'I-told-you-so' look to the dark haired man closest to her.
"Why is that?" he asked innocently.
"Nobody knows. Y'know, the Stooges have been one of the great mysteries between the sexes," she began, preparing to wax philosophical.
Jarod began to laugh, just a little at first, but then his mirth increased.
"Not you, too!" the waitress sighed.
"I'm sorry, but it really is pretty funny."
He did not see a dark-haired woman carrying a boxed meal round the counter behind him, and when he stepped off the stool as he prepared to leave, he crashed into her in time to an appropriate *bonk* coming from the television behind him.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I feel like such a..."
"Stooge?" the brunette supplied for him. She had a lovely Spanish accent.
Jarod looked into those big brown eyes smiling back at him and couldn't think. His mind was totally empty, but his body felt suddenly... different. Electric. Alive.
"Hey, mattress brain, the bill's $12.95."
Jarod watched the brunette smile at him, and exit the diner with all his attention going out the door with her. Mechanically he dug in his pocket for a $20 bill and handed it to the woman behind the counter. She turned away to make change, and he gathered up his latest casebook and a small stack of newspapers he was using for research.
The waitress picked up the remote from the counter and aimed it at the television, suddenly weary of the ancient re-run. "These guys have caused enough distraction for one day," she commented as she changed the channel. A newscast was already in progress, and the picture was centered on a reporter in an overcoat, standing against a background of evergreen trees with a small army of people parading around behind him, all looking quite purposeful.
"...Park service rangers from all over have joined in the search for Victor Simkins, an ornithology graduate student who vanished in our local mountains. I spoke with Simkins' mother moments ago."
Jarod had been about to leave, but the news story caught his attention, and he turned to face the television again. He saw an older woman with carrot-red hair talking to an unseen reporter.
"When I didn't hear from Victor, well, I just thought he was late, but now it's been five days... I'm just praying that he's okay."
The waitress and other patrons stopped their casual conversations as well and turned their attention to the story, and the woman's heartfelt distress.
The reporter continued. "With a storm heading this way, rangers are anxious to find Simkins before it's too late. Live from Toluca National Forest, this is David Milkin, Action 15 News."
With change in hand, the waitress turned back to the tall, dark man in the black leather jacket. "Okay, here's your..."
But he was gone, the door swinging closed in the wake of his hasty departure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
TOLUCA NATIONAL PARK
A large group of volunteers gathered just outside the ranger station, all listening to one of the park service officers working on organizing his party of searchers.
"Okay, I need one more body to help sector out Cobull Ridge, B1 through B7," announced Stan Conrad. "Steep approach, bad underbrush, lots of slippery shale. Who wants to hump that?"
Standing near the back of the crowd, Jarod smiled and raised his hand. "I'm your man," he offered confidently.
"Got experience?" asked the ranger.
"Well, I spent a few years..." Jarod spied a bumper sticker on the rear end of a nearby Jeep that read GO ARMY, and it filled in a gap for him. "...in the Army Rangers. I specialized in high mountain work."
Another ranger just behind the one in charge commented, "Man, you were made to order!"
"You could say that," said Jarod with a secretive smile.
"What's your name?" Stan Conrad asked.
"Jarod." He noticed a nearby Smokey the Bear poster and one word jumped out as properly fitting for the job. "Forest."
Stan accepted that and turned his attention to the assembled group. "All right, people, listen up. Advance parties went out at dawn. We move out in 30 minutes. Now this kid's been missin' for five days and his mother's very concerned. He -- and we -- are runnin' out of time so we leave no stones unturned. We're lookin' for a needle, folks, and we haven't even found the haystack."
Some of the group moved into the nearby ranger station to pack up gear, check maps, visit the facilities and make a few phone calls before heading out on the first leg of the search. Jarod studied a large map posted on a free-standing board, looking for the coordinates where he would be concentrating his portion of the search.
"Forest."
Jarod glanced up to see the other ranger approaching, his hand held out in greeting. He grasped it warmly.
"Derek Cobey."
"Nice to meet you," said Jarod. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and let it settle on the floor in front of him. "So, had anyone seen Victor Simkins before he was reported missing?"
Derek shrugged. "No one was looking for him. 'Course, for the last two days, the boss had me doing paperwork while he got to do all the fun stuff."
"Fun stuff," Jarod repeated, unsure exactly what Cobey meant.
"Stan's been on the north side of the mountain, clearin' trails, setting charges. Lots of deep ravines, caves, fallen old growth. You take a tumble in that, I don't care if you're Moby Dick, we might not find you."
"Sounds like you know the terrain pretty well.
Cobey smiled. "Eight years. I came out here on one of those let's-expose-the-urban-youth-to-the-great-outdoors programs. Funny thing is, it worked. I love the Bronx... but this is home now." He moved off to get things started.
Jarod turned back to the map.
"So, Forest," Stan began. "Where did you do your mountain training?"
"In the mountains, mostly."
Stan couldn't believe the dry delivery of that line. "Yeah... No, seriously, where were you stationed? Ft. Lewis?"
"You were in the Army, too?"
Proudly, Stan smiled back at the stranger. "Fifteen years. Did you ever come across a Sgt. Tripczek? He was a Ranger instructor at Benning."
"Sounds familiar." Jarod didn't want to get into details with this man.
Suddenly the brunette from the diner appeared, several coffee cups in her hands, and passed behind Ranger Conrad. "He's lying, Stan."
Jarod's smile melted. Had she seen through him so easily? He certainly felt as if she could. Those eyes...
"He's really one of the Stooges," she finished jokingly.
"You two know each other?" asked Stan with a trace of a smile.
"We ran into each other once," she added, and grinned. She moved off toward the desks and handed out the steaming coffee to some of the deskbound help tied to the phones, and Jarod couldn't take his eyes off her.
His voice was softer when he spoke, filled with awe. "Is she a Ranger?"
"Nah. She's a volunteer. She runs a little outfitting place a few miles down the road." Stan read the look on the taller man's face accurately. "I wouldn't get any ideas. She keeps mostly to herself."
Derek called out as he approached them. "Stan! Just got word from the advance team. They found Simkins' base camp!"
Stan smiled, and everyone moved out to investigate the clues Simkins might have left behind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It took a few hours to reach the camp, and by then early afternoon had settled over the mountain. People milled about the site, trampling more clues than they found, but one man stood in the midst of the activity and watched. When he had seen enough, he slipped silently into the pitched tent that had been Victor Simkins' home for the past several months. He sat down on the sleeping bag, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
Outside, Stan Conrad took charge of the searchers. "We'll split into teams of two and fan out across the mountain. I want everyone to report in at 30 minute intervals." He glanced around for one face in particular that he didn't see. "Where's Forest?"
Jarod touched his forehead, drew his fingers away and repeated the movement with the other hand. Seeing Simkins in the camp wasn't easy, though. Something wasn't right. He heard the tent flap move and opened his eyes to see the beautiful brunette slip inside and squat before him.
"Disturbance in the Force?" she asked, wondering about the strange motions she had seen him perform.
He was completely lost. "Uh, the force?"
"Obi-wan Kenobe?" There was no recognition on his face at the mention of the well-known character name from the science fiction film. "Star Wars?"
"The satellite missile defense system?" He had worked on that before leaving the Centre. Did she know about it? Who was this woman?
"What are you doing?" she clarified, simplifying the question for him and wondering if he was as simple as he seemed.
"I'm just trying to imagine what kind of person Victor is. And who would want to spend months in isolation... on purpose." Certainly not Jarod. He had quite enough of that.
"Somebody who's trying to find himself?" she asked wisely. The weight of experience took the edge off her question, made it more of a statement.
"In the middle of the wilderness?" Jarod was incredulous.
She looked at him with those dark eyes that went on forever. "Sometimes you have to get lost before you can find yourself."
A wall inside him came tumbling down, and he felt as if she could see every secret he hid in the dark, twisted depths of his soul. She could see exactly what he was, and then she smiled. He thought for a moment that he was going to die.
"My name is Nia," she said softly.
"Jarod," he returned huskily. Even his voice sounded different in his ears.
She ducked out the tent to join the others, with Jarod on her heels.
He was having trouble thinking with Nia walking right in front of him. He picked up his pace and passed her, getting her out of his sight. A flash of copper hair drew his attention upslope, and he strode toward the missing youth's mother.
"Mrs. Simkins? Hi, I'm Jarod Forest. I was wondering if I might ask you some questions about your son?"
The woman turned toward him, concern etched on her face. "Anything to help."
Jarod was thoughtful. "Is Victor right handed or left handed?"
A frown creased her brows. "He's right handed."
The Pretender considered that for a moment. "I noticed that he had many books on predatory birds."
Mrs. Simkins gave him a shyly proud smile. "He's been out here for months documenting the nesting patters of the eagles. He's loved them since he was a little boy." After a wistful pause, remembering, she went on. "He used to sit out in front of his tent and watch them all day."
Jarod remembered sitting on a hill, overlooking a dry desert, watching the hawks soaring on thermals while he drifted handfuls of sand out of his palm to see which way the wind blew. He thought he might have been a boy like that once, long ago. Only the memories were gone.
More desperately, Mrs. Simkins added, "He's the only family I have."
Nia stepped up from behind Jarod then. "Don't worry. We'll find him."
"We won't leave the mountain until we do," Jarod promised.
Another ranger came up and escorted Mrs. Simkins back down the mountain until they had further news about her son.
"So who am I paired with, Stan?" asked Nia.
Ranger Conrad glanced up at the tall, silent man waiting his turn to ask. Stan pointed toward him with his chin. "Moe," he answered with a half-hearted tease.
Jarod turned his eyes to Nia, and smiled, but said nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Up the mountain they headed, pushing steadily through the thick trees toward higher ground. For a while they traveled in silence, but eventually curiosity got the better of Nia, and she spoke.
"You look confused."
Jarod was in the lead, keeping his eyes on the ground, looking for tracks or other signs of humanity. "I am confused. Victor had been out here for months, yet there was no sign of a refuse pile, or latrine..."
"Meaning?"
"I don't know," Jarod admitted frankly. "Just another piece of the puzzle."
She smiled to herself behind him. "You're a strange Stooge, Moe." A little farther upslope she asked, "What about that left hand, right hand stuff?"
Jarod was pleased that she had been thinking about his earlier remarks. "Well, Victor's eyeglasses were on the left hand side of his sleeping bag. Seemed kind of awkward for a right-handed man."
Nia took the lead. "This way." But Jarod wasn't behind her anymore. She stopped and turned to look at him. "Jarod?"
His attention was directed toward the ground. "Somebody's covered their tracks by brushing over them. They head up that way." He followed the disturbed trail with his eyes and noticed the brim of a baseball cap extending behind a large tree ahead of them. The vapor of warm breath made puffy clouds just beneath the brim, as if someone was hiding there, listening to them.
Jarod put his finger to his lips to signal Nia to silence, and he directed her to one side. He meant to sneak up on the stranger, but at the same moment the other man began to circle around the tree in the same direction as Jarod. After both of them had made a complete circuit, they changed direction at exactly the same moment and stalked each other around once more. Stopping, each of them peered around the huge trunk, looking in the opposite direction and still not seeing each other.
Nia could see them both, and covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Finally, Jarod stood still and thrust his hands in his pockets, deciding to hold his position and let the other fellow catch up to him in his own time.
The grizzled man in camouflage clothing began to stalk again, hoping to elude the man trailing him, but was so surprised to find Jarod right behind him that he jumped backward, lost his footing and fell down on the forest floor.
"I didn't mean to startle you," said Jarod casually.
The stranger pushed to his feet and dusted himself off. "Aw, that's okay. I'll live. 'Bout two weeks less, but I'll live."
Jarod extended his hand. "Hi, um, I'm Jarod, and this is Nia." He nodded toward his partner.
"Bob," said the man. "Sorry, Jarod, you startled me. I cain't shake the hand of a man who just startled me. I'll have to wait till the next time I see ya."
"Are you, um, hiding from someone, Bob?" asked Jarod.
There was a wild look in Bob's eyes, a look of distinct mistrust. "Hiding? I'm lookin'."
Jarod smiled. "Oh. Oh, you're with the search party."
"Search party? They got a search party to find Bob?"
"I thought you were Bob," Jarod returned with a slight frown.
"I am Bob," replied the man, glancing over a the woman, then back to Jarod. "Big Bob. Looking for Little Bob. He's my partner."
"Oh, um, we're looking for a student," Jarod told him.
"His camp was about three miles west," Nia added. "Brown hair, about 5'11..."
Big Bob shook his head and started easing away. "Don't know him. Don't know his camp. Uh, I -- I ain't seen nothin'."
"Should we alert someone about Little Bob?" asked Jarod curiously.
The mountain man shook his head vehemently. "Oh, you don't want to get my partner mad. I seen him go into a bar and tear it up from one end to th' other."
Still curious, Jarod pressed him for more information. "How will we know him if we find him?"
Big Bob took another step away. "Oh, you don't want to find him. He don't like strangers. Truth be told, he don't like anybody." Bob took another few steps back, the suddenly drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he sniffed the air. He poked one finger into his mouth and held it up to sense the wind direction, then turned his attention back to the others. "Bad storm comin'. Bad one." Then he put his back to them and headed away in the opposite direction.
As if to punctuate that prediction, a grumble of thunder rolled in the distance, echoing in the trees. The tall man and woman glanced skyward, then turned and continued on their way.
The terrain grew steeper, and the trees gave way to rocky trails. The pair struggled ever upward, amusing themselves with idle conversation as they went to pass the time companionably.
"...and before the Rangers?" asked Nia as she struggled to keep her balance on a shale-covered slope.
"Test pilot, thoracic surgeon, lieutenant commander on a destroyer... the usual," he replied honestly, knowing she would take it as a joke. "And what did you do before you became an outfitter?"
She grinned. "Astronaut, Olympic skater, Nobel prize winner... the usual." Glancing up, the glint of something metallic just over the edge of the cliff before them caught her eye. "What's that over there?"
Jarod searched a moment before he found it, too. He crept cautiously toward the cliff edge for a better look. "A carabiner." He thought about it for a moment before making the decision. It could be a clue, possibly an important one. "I'm going to get it. No experienced climber would leave that behind."
"Be careful," Nia cautioned him, glancing about at the crumbling shale all around them. "You don't know this cliff. It's dangerous."
"Relax," he grinned back at her. "I was a sherpa on Mt. Everest once... Really." He could see in her smile that she was still worried.
"Be careful," she said again.
Jarod grasped an outcropping of solid-looking stone and gently eased over the edge. Slowly he climbed down toward the carabiner, still attached to a piton hammered into the cliff face. When he thought he was close enough, he stretched his left arm out, disengaged the metal clip from the piton and tucked it safely in his insulated vest pocket. "These markings are fresh," he observed. "Looks like it's only a few days old."
His boot slipped on an outcropping that crumbled beneath his weight, and he felt himself falling.
"Jarod!" Nia cried, reaching out to grab his right arm. She flattened out on her belly, hoping to use her horizontal position to make a more solid anchor, so he wouldn't pull them both over the cliff. She wasn't strong enough to pull a man his size back up against gravity, but she could provide him a brake until he found another foothold. He found one quickly, but it was crumbling too, and she hauled upward on his arm with all her strength, felt him scrambling for hand holds to gain some ground. Shale cliffs were always the most dangerous climbs, because the brittle rock broke away with very little pressure, and Jarod was panting, his heart pounding as he dragged himself upward. He lost both feet for a moment and spun around with his back to the cliff, trying to dig his heels into the disintegrating stone. Something sharp dug into his shoulder but he ignored it, struggling to face the wall again and gain another hand or foot hold that would bear his weight. Nia's grip was solid, but her arms were trembling with the effort as he finally got a toehold and pushed upward. He slithered over the top and rolled onto his back, staring into the woman's face who had just saved his life.
"Ow!" he cried involuntarily, lying on the wound. But all he could see was Nia's face, her heart in her eyes, her concern for him quite plain.
"Are you all right?" she asked him, panting hard from the exertion.
"I'm fine," he answered automatically, not at all sure if he was. "We should get this back to the station, see if anyone can identify it."
Nia sat back on her knees. Sharp pieces of shale dug into her knees and shins, but she ignored it. "Yeah," she said breathlessly, and dusted herself off as she got to her feet. "We should be getting back before dark, anyway."
But as she fell in behind him, she could not help remembering the feel of his hand in hers, the desperation she felt in holding onto him. Something happened in that moment. Something she wasn't quite ready to admit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At the ranger station, Jarod and Nia told Stan Conrad what they had found and showed him on the map where they located it. He didn't recognize the carabiner, but suggested showing it to Victor's mother in the hopes that she might. Jarod tossed the carabiner down on the wooden plank in front of her, drawing her attention to it immediately. Mrs. Simkins picked it up, examining the bright orange tape wrapped around the sturdy nylon cording just beneath the metal clasp.
"That's Victor's mark. Orange tape, the Inuit sign for eagle. He said anybody could use their initials." She paused, turning it over in her hands, gazing at it lovingly, but worry deepened the frown on her face. "He's an experienced climber. He wouldn't leave his equipment behind unless..."
Stan glanced around at the volunteers gathering closer. "Listen, the sun rises at 6:35. We deploy here from K4 to K8 just below the cliff. Now, I want everyone here at a quarter of six. There's a cold front moving through in the next 48 hours."
Mrs. Simkins' eyes filled with tears. "Will my son be able to survive?" she asked hopefully.
Jarod moved up behind her, and as he spoke she turned to face him. "Your son was an experienced climber. He may be cold, and he may be hungry, but people have survived worse. I know he's out there somewhere, worrying about you, too." He saw the relief in the woman's eyes, and hoped someone had said the same sort of thing to his mother, once. He knew for certain how Victor Simkins felt. He had felt that way every day, for decades.
Stan took back the control of the room. "Everybody, get some sleep. We head out at the crack of dawn."
Volunteers began to scatter in all directions. Jarod turned to Derek, who had been standing right behind him. "Hey, Cobey, where's the nearest motel?"
Derek frowned. "About a hundred miles," he shot back irritably. "And when you get there, you'll wish it was another hundred."
Nia overheard the question as she picked up her backpack from a desk nearby. "I've got a spare room," she told Jarod with a smile. "Grab your gear. I'll wait for you outside."
A look of astonishment settled over Derek's face, and he turned to stare at Jarod. "Man, that must've been some search up there today!"
The Pretender's attention was still focused on the woman exiting the front door of the ranger station. "Hmmm?"
Cobey nudged Jarod's shoulder, stunned disbelief echoing in his voice when he spoke again. "Seniorita Iceberg invites you over for a slumber party? You are *in!*" He grinned broadly, suddenly envious, and decided it was time to head home himself.
Jarod got up from his perch on the edge of the table, confusion drawing his brows together for a moment. "In where?" he asked innocently.
Teleplay by CHRIS RUPPENTHAL
Story by STEVEN LONG MITCHELL & CRAIG W VAN SICKLE
Text version by Dragonheart
by Dragonheart
The Centre
10/1/69
"Jarod has forgotten that there are such things as females. I thought that was what you wanted -- no distractions from his work?" Sydney was frowning across his superior's desk, more displeased than usual at what he was being asked to do with the boy.
"I know we initially decided to limit his exposure to only the data needed to perform the simulations, but it seems that the scope of the boy's talents may also have use in solving cases for select members of the private sector as well. To do that, he'll have to know about the role sex plays in motivation."
Sydney sighed. "But as far as he can remember, he's never seen a female. He has no concept of reproduction. He may not even have the instincts for breeding. We've done our best to weed that sort of response out of him."
"Well then, perhaps we should put that to the test, Sydney. And I'd like some of our other scientific minds to study his reactions, just to make certain his perceptions will be on target for our future use. In the meantime, you prep Jarod with the proper materials."
Sydney's gaze wandered down to his neatly creased slacks, his polished shoes, but he did not rise from the chair.
"You wanted to say something, Sydney? An objection, perhaps?"
His eyes met those scrutinizing him from across the desk and he sighed. "No. No, that's just fine. I'll see to it right away."
DSA - Jarod
10/7/69
Jarod approached the glass booth, taking note of the audience in front of it and the monitoring equipment behind it. Sydney followed him into the room, watching him as he always did.
"What are we doing, Sydney?" Jarod asked. It didn't look like the setup for any other simulation they had ever done together.
"It's an experiment about... sexuality," said Sydney, watching as the boy was wired with EEG and EKG monitors and shown into the booth.
"Reproduction?" asked the boy, trying to get a clear picture of what was ahead of him.
"That's one aspect of it," Sydney answered vaguely.
"I read the biology manuals." Jarod couldn't imagine what an experiment in procreation would have to do with him. He wasn't an adult, and he knew that he wasn't capable of reproduction yet. His body hadn't matured to that level, and wouldn't for several more years.
Sydney could see him thinking, trying to understand, to see where they were going. "Reading isn't quite the same as feeling." Everything was in place, all the machines functioning properly, and everyone was waiting. He could see Jarod's anxiety levels rising, a light sheen of perspiration forming on his skin, yet his heart rate and breathing were normal. The boy was nervous, apprehensive, confused about what was happening, but still in control of himself.
"I'd like you to meet someone, Jarod." Sydney signaled the man by the door in the rear of the room, and a young girl about Jarod's age strode confidently into the room. She had auburn hair and green eyes and was wearing a short navy dress that showed off her coltish legs. Sydney knew instantly who she was. Between the rows of folding chairs she walked, head up and eyes focused on the dais and the boy in the glass booth. She stepped surely up to the dais and glanced toward the doorway, and the silhouetted man who waited there.
Jarod smiled as soon as he saw her. She was beautiful, and his heart soared. She was like him! But not like him. It was wonderful. He heard the beeps from the monitors sounding faster and knew his body was responding to the excitement of this new discovery.
"You're a girl!" he blurted. He was certain she knew that already, but his embarrassment at that blunder vanished instantaneously, overwhelmed by this thrilling site before him. He put his hand up against the glass and watched the girl look at a shadowy man in the back of the room for permission before reciprocating.
"My name is Jarod. What's your name?" Jarod asked, unable to take his eyes off her face.
The girl glanced over her shoulder again. The shadow shook his head. *No.*
"Miss Parker," she answered formally.
The Present
A coffee shop somewhere in the Northwest
"Will ya marry me?" The woman on the television set turned the vise again as the man beneath it cried, "Never!"
Jarod studied the black and white program intently as he sat at the counter, finishing up his meal. "They seem to be able to withstand an amazing amount of pain," he observed to the waitress as she cleared away his dishes. "People find this type of violence... funny?"
The redhead gave him a long-suffering look. "Not people. Men."
As if to illustrate that point, two men sitting just behind Jarod guffawed at the antics of the Three Stooges. The woman took note of that and returned an 'I-told-you-so' look to the dark haired man closest to her.
"Why is that?" he asked innocently.
"Nobody knows. Y'know, the Stooges have been one of the great mysteries between the sexes," she began, preparing to wax philosophical.
Jarod began to laugh, just a little at first, but then his mirth increased.
"Not you, too!" the waitress sighed.
"I'm sorry, but it really is pretty funny."
He did not see a dark-haired woman carrying a boxed meal round the counter behind him, and when he stepped off the stool as he prepared to leave, he crashed into her in time to an appropriate *bonk* coming from the television behind him.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I feel like such a..."
"Stooge?" the brunette supplied for him. She had a lovely Spanish accent.
Jarod looked into those big brown eyes smiling back at him and couldn't think. His mind was totally empty, but his body felt suddenly... different. Electric. Alive.
"Hey, mattress brain, the bill's $12.95."
Jarod watched the brunette smile at him, and exit the diner with all his attention going out the door with her. Mechanically he dug in his pocket for a $20 bill and handed it to the woman behind the counter. She turned away to make change, and he gathered up his latest casebook and a small stack of newspapers he was using for research.
The waitress picked up the remote from the counter and aimed it at the television, suddenly weary of the ancient re-run. "These guys have caused enough distraction for one day," she commented as she changed the channel. A newscast was already in progress, and the picture was centered on a reporter in an overcoat, standing against a background of evergreen trees with a small army of people parading around behind him, all looking quite purposeful.
"...Park service rangers from all over have joined in the search for Victor Simkins, an ornithology graduate student who vanished in our local mountains. I spoke with Simkins' mother moments ago."
Jarod had been about to leave, but the news story caught his attention, and he turned to face the television again. He saw an older woman with carrot-red hair talking to an unseen reporter.
"When I didn't hear from Victor, well, I just thought he was late, but now it's been five days... I'm just praying that he's okay."
The waitress and other patrons stopped their casual conversations as well and turned their attention to the story, and the woman's heartfelt distress.
The reporter continued. "With a storm heading this way, rangers are anxious to find Simkins before it's too late. Live from Toluca National Forest, this is David Milkin, Action 15 News."
With change in hand, the waitress turned back to the tall, dark man in the black leather jacket. "Okay, here's your..."
But he was gone, the door swinging closed in the wake of his hasty departure.
TOLUCA NATIONAL PARK
A large group of volunteers gathered just outside the ranger station, all listening to one of the park service officers working on organizing his party of searchers.
"Okay, I need one more body to help sector out Cobull Ridge, B1 through B7," announced Stan Conrad. "Steep approach, bad underbrush, lots of slippery shale. Who wants to hump that?"
Standing near the back of the crowd, Jarod smiled and raised his hand. "I'm your man," he offered confidently.
"Got experience?" asked the ranger.
"Well, I spent a few years..." Jarod spied a bumper sticker on the rear end of a nearby Jeep that read GO ARMY, and it filled in a gap for him. "...in the Army Rangers. I specialized in high mountain work."
Another ranger just behind the one in charge commented, "Man, you were made to order!"
"You could say that," said Jarod with a secretive smile.
"What's your name?" Stan Conrad asked.
"Jarod." He noticed a nearby Smokey the Bear poster and one word jumped out as properly fitting for the job. "Forest."
Stan accepted that and turned his attention to the assembled group. "All right, people, listen up. Advance parties went out at dawn. We move out in 30 minutes. Now this kid's been missin' for five days and his mother's very concerned. He -- and we -- are runnin' out of time so we leave no stones unturned. We're lookin' for a needle, folks, and we haven't even found the haystack."
Some of the group moved into the nearby ranger station to pack up gear, check maps, visit the facilities and make a few phone calls before heading out on the first leg of the search. Jarod studied a large map posted on a free-standing board, looking for the coordinates where he would be concentrating his portion of the search.
"Forest."
Jarod glanced up to see the other ranger approaching, his hand held out in greeting. He grasped it warmly.
"Derek Cobey."
"Nice to meet you," said Jarod. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and let it settle on the floor in front of him. "So, had anyone seen Victor Simkins before he was reported missing?"
Derek shrugged. "No one was looking for him. 'Course, for the last two days, the boss had me doing paperwork while he got to do all the fun stuff."
"Fun stuff," Jarod repeated, unsure exactly what Cobey meant.
"Stan's been on the north side of the mountain, clearin' trails, setting charges. Lots of deep ravines, caves, fallen old growth. You take a tumble in that, I don't care if you're Moby Dick, we might not find you."
"Sounds like you know the terrain pretty well.
Cobey smiled. "Eight years. I came out here on one of those let's-expose-the-urban-youth-to-the-great-outdoors programs. Funny thing is, it worked. I love the Bronx... but this is home now." He moved off to get things started.
Jarod turned back to the map.
"So, Forest," Stan began. "Where did you do your mountain training?"
"In the mountains, mostly."
Stan couldn't believe the dry delivery of that line. "Yeah... No, seriously, where were you stationed? Ft. Lewis?"
"You were in the Army, too?"
Proudly, Stan smiled back at the stranger. "Fifteen years. Did you ever come across a Sgt. Tripczek? He was a Ranger instructor at Benning."
"Sounds familiar." Jarod didn't want to get into details with this man.
Suddenly the brunette from the diner appeared, several coffee cups in her hands, and passed behind Ranger Conrad. "He's lying, Stan."
Jarod's smile melted. Had she seen through him so easily? He certainly felt as if she could. Those eyes...
"He's really one of the Stooges," she finished jokingly.
"You two know each other?" asked Stan with a trace of a smile.
"We ran into each other once," she added, and grinned. She moved off toward the desks and handed out the steaming coffee to some of the deskbound help tied to the phones, and Jarod couldn't take his eyes off her.
His voice was softer when he spoke, filled with awe. "Is she a Ranger?"
"Nah. She's a volunteer. She runs a little outfitting place a few miles down the road." Stan read the look on the taller man's face accurately. "I wouldn't get any ideas. She keeps mostly to herself."
Derek called out as he approached them. "Stan! Just got word from the advance team. They found Simkins' base camp!"
Stan smiled, and everyone moved out to investigate the clues Simkins might have left behind.
It took a few hours to reach the camp, and by then early afternoon had settled over the mountain. People milled about the site, trampling more clues than they found, but one man stood in the midst of the activity and watched. When he had seen enough, he slipped silently into the pitched tent that had been Victor Simkins' home for the past several months. He sat down on the sleeping bag, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
Outside, Stan Conrad took charge of the searchers. "We'll split into teams of two and fan out across the mountain. I want everyone to report in at 30 minute intervals." He glanced around for one face in particular that he didn't see. "Where's Forest?"
Jarod touched his forehead, drew his fingers away and repeated the movement with the other hand. Seeing Simkins in the camp wasn't easy, though. Something wasn't right. He heard the tent flap move and opened his eyes to see the beautiful brunette slip inside and squat before him.
"Disturbance in the Force?" she asked, wondering about the strange motions she had seen him perform.
He was completely lost. "Uh, the force?"
"Obi-wan Kenobe?" There was no recognition on his face at the mention of the well-known character name from the science fiction film. "Star Wars?"
"The satellite missile defense system?" He had worked on that before leaving the Centre. Did she know about it? Who was this woman?
"What are you doing?" she clarified, simplifying the question for him and wondering if he was as simple as he seemed.
"I'm just trying to imagine what kind of person Victor is. And who would want to spend months in isolation... on purpose." Certainly not Jarod. He had quite enough of that.
"Somebody who's trying to find himself?" she asked wisely. The weight of experience took the edge off her question, made it more of a statement.
"In the middle of the wilderness?" Jarod was incredulous.
She looked at him with those dark eyes that went on forever. "Sometimes you have to get lost before you can find yourself."
A wall inside him came tumbling down, and he felt as if she could see every secret he hid in the dark, twisted depths of his soul. She could see exactly what he was, and then she smiled. He thought for a moment that he was going to die.
"My name is Nia," she said softly.
"Jarod," he returned huskily. Even his voice sounded different in his ears.
She ducked out the tent to join the others, with Jarod on her heels.
He was having trouble thinking with Nia walking right in front of him. He picked up his pace and passed her, getting her out of his sight. A flash of copper hair drew his attention upslope, and he strode toward the missing youth's mother.
"Mrs. Simkins? Hi, I'm Jarod Forest. I was wondering if I might ask you some questions about your son?"
The woman turned toward him, concern etched on her face. "Anything to help."
Jarod was thoughtful. "Is Victor right handed or left handed?"
A frown creased her brows. "He's right handed."
The Pretender considered that for a moment. "I noticed that he had many books on predatory birds."
Mrs. Simkins gave him a shyly proud smile. "He's been out here for months documenting the nesting patters of the eagles. He's loved them since he was a little boy." After a wistful pause, remembering, she went on. "He used to sit out in front of his tent and watch them all day."
Jarod remembered sitting on a hill, overlooking a dry desert, watching the hawks soaring on thermals while he drifted handfuls of sand out of his palm to see which way the wind blew. He thought he might have been a boy like that once, long ago. Only the memories were gone.
More desperately, Mrs. Simkins added, "He's the only family I have."
Nia stepped up from behind Jarod then. "Don't worry. We'll find him."
"We won't leave the mountain until we do," Jarod promised.
Another ranger came up and escorted Mrs. Simkins back down the mountain until they had further news about her son.
"So who am I paired with, Stan?" asked Nia.
Ranger Conrad glanced up at the tall, silent man waiting his turn to ask. Stan pointed toward him with his chin. "Moe," he answered with a half-hearted tease.
Jarod turned his eyes to Nia, and smiled, but said nothing.
Up the mountain they headed, pushing steadily through the thick trees toward higher ground. For a while they traveled in silence, but eventually curiosity got the better of Nia, and she spoke.
"You look confused."
Jarod was in the lead, keeping his eyes on the ground, looking for tracks or other signs of humanity. "I am confused. Victor had been out here for months, yet there was no sign of a refuse pile, or latrine..."
"Meaning?"
"I don't know," Jarod admitted frankly. "Just another piece of the puzzle."
She smiled to herself behind him. "You're a strange Stooge, Moe." A little farther upslope she asked, "What about that left hand, right hand stuff?"
Jarod was pleased that she had been thinking about his earlier remarks. "Well, Victor's eyeglasses were on the left hand side of his sleeping bag. Seemed kind of awkward for a right-handed man."
Nia took the lead. "This way." But Jarod wasn't behind her anymore. She stopped and turned to look at him. "Jarod?"
His attention was directed toward the ground. "Somebody's covered their tracks by brushing over them. They head up that way." He followed the disturbed trail with his eyes and noticed the brim of a baseball cap extending behind a large tree ahead of them. The vapor of warm breath made puffy clouds just beneath the brim, as if someone was hiding there, listening to them.
Jarod put his finger to his lips to signal Nia to silence, and he directed her to one side. He meant to sneak up on the stranger, but at the same moment the other man began to circle around the tree in the same direction as Jarod. After both of them had made a complete circuit, they changed direction at exactly the same moment and stalked each other around once more. Stopping, each of them peered around the huge trunk, looking in the opposite direction and still not seeing each other.
Nia could see them both, and covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Finally, Jarod stood still and thrust his hands in his pockets, deciding to hold his position and let the other fellow catch up to him in his own time.
The grizzled man in camouflage clothing began to stalk again, hoping to elude the man trailing him, but was so surprised to find Jarod right behind him that he jumped backward, lost his footing and fell down on the forest floor.
"I didn't mean to startle you," said Jarod casually.
The stranger pushed to his feet and dusted himself off. "Aw, that's okay. I'll live. 'Bout two weeks less, but I'll live."
Jarod extended his hand. "Hi, um, I'm Jarod, and this is Nia." He nodded toward his partner.
"Bob," said the man. "Sorry, Jarod, you startled me. I cain't shake the hand of a man who just startled me. I'll have to wait till the next time I see ya."
"Are you, um, hiding from someone, Bob?" asked Jarod.
There was a wild look in Bob's eyes, a look of distinct mistrust. "Hiding? I'm lookin'."
Jarod smiled. "Oh. Oh, you're with the search party."
"Search party? They got a search party to find Bob?"
"I thought you were Bob," Jarod returned with a slight frown.
"I am Bob," replied the man, glancing over a the woman, then back to Jarod. "Big Bob. Looking for Little Bob. He's my partner."
"Oh, um, we're looking for a student," Jarod told him.
"His camp was about three miles west," Nia added. "Brown hair, about 5'11..."
Big Bob shook his head and started easing away. "Don't know him. Don't know his camp. Uh, I -- I ain't seen nothin'."
"Should we alert someone about Little Bob?" asked Jarod curiously.
The mountain man shook his head vehemently. "Oh, you don't want to get my partner mad. I seen him go into a bar and tear it up from one end to th' other."
Still curious, Jarod pressed him for more information. "How will we know him if we find him?"
Big Bob took another step away. "Oh, you don't want to find him. He don't like strangers. Truth be told, he don't like anybody." Bob took another few steps back, the suddenly drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he sniffed the air. He poked one finger into his mouth and held it up to sense the wind direction, then turned his attention back to the others. "Bad storm comin'. Bad one." Then he put his back to them and headed away in the opposite direction.
As if to punctuate that prediction, a grumble of thunder rolled in the distance, echoing in the trees. The tall man and woman glanced skyward, then turned and continued on their way.
The terrain grew steeper, and the trees gave way to rocky trails. The pair struggled ever upward, amusing themselves with idle conversation as they went to pass the time companionably.
"...and before the Rangers?" asked Nia as she struggled to keep her balance on a shale-covered slope.
"Test pilot, thoracic surgeon, lieutenant commander on a destroyer... the usual," he replied honestly, knowing she would take it as a joke. "And what did you do before you became an outfitter?"
She grinned. "Astronaut, Olympic skater, Nobel prize winner... the usual." Glancing up, the glint of something metallic just over the edge of the cliff before them caught her eye. "What's that over there?"
Jarod searched a moment before he found it, too. He crept cautiously toward the cliff edge for a better look. "A carabiner." He thought about it for a moment before making the decision. It could be a clue, possibly an important one. "I'm going to get it. No experienced climber would leave that behind."
"Be careful," Nia cautioned him, glancing about at the crumbling shale all around them. "You don't know this cliff. It's dangerous."
"Relax," he grinned back at her. "I was a sherpa on Mt. Everest once... Really." He could see in her smile that she was still worried.
"Be careful," she said again.
Jarod grasped an outcropping of solid-looking stone and gently eased over the edge. Slowly he climbed down toward the carabiner, still attached to a piton hammered into the cliff face. When he thought he was close enough, he stretched his left arm out, disengaged the metal clip from the piton and tucked it safely in his insulated vest pocket. "These markings are fresh," he observed. "Looks like it's only a few days old."
His boot slipped on an outcropping that crumbled beneath his weight, and he felt himself falling.
"Jarod!" Nia cried, reaching out to grab his right arm. She flattened out on her belly, hoping to use her horizontal position to make a more solid anchor, so he wouldn't pull them both over the cliff. She wasn't strong enough to pull a man his size back up against gravity, but she could provide him a brake until he found another foothold. He found one quickly, but it was crumbling too, and she hauled upward on his arm with all her strength, felt him scrambling for hand holds to gain some ground. Shale cliffs were always the most dangerous climbs, because the brittle rock broke away with very little pressure, and Jarod was panting, his heart pounding as he dragged himself upward. He lost both feet for a moment and spun around with his back to the cliff, trying to dig his heels into the disintegrating stone. Something sharp dug into his shoulder but he ignored it, struggling to face the wall again and gain another hand or foot hold that would bear his weight. Nia's grip was solid, but her arms were trembling with the effort as he finally got a toehold and pushed upward. He slithered over the top and rolled onto his back, staring into the woman's face who had just saved his life.
"Ow!" he cried involuntarily, lying on the wound. But all he could see was Nia's face, her heart in her eyes, her concern for him quite plain.
"Are you all right?" she asked him, panting hard from the exertion.
"I'm fine," he answered automatically, not at all sure if he was. "We should get this back to the station, see if anyone can identify it."
Nia sat back on her knees. Sharp pieces of shale dug into her knees and shins, but she ignored it. "Yeah," she said breathlessly, and dusted herself off as she got to her feet. "We should be getting back before dark, anyway."
But as she fell in behind him, she could not help remembering the feel of his hand in hers, the desperation she felt in holding onto him. Something happened in that moment. Something she wasn't quite ready to admit.
At the ranger station, Jarod and Nia told Stan Conrad what they had found and showed him on the map where they located it. He didn't recognize the carabiner, but suggested showing it to Victor's mother in the hopes that she might. Jarod tossed the carabiner down on the wooden plank in front of her, drawing her attention to it immediately. Mrs. Simkins picked it up, examining the bright orange tape wrapped around the sturdy nylon cording just beneath the metal clasp.
"That's Victor's mark. Orange tape, the Inuit sign for eagle. He said anybody could use their initials." She paused, turning it over in her hands, gazing at it lovingly, but worry deepened the frown on her face. "He's an experienced climber. He wouldn't leave his equipment behind unless..."
Stan glanced around at the volunteers gathering closer. "Listen, the sun rises at 6:35. We deploy here from K4 to K8 just below the cliff. Now, I want everyone here at a quarter of six. There's a cold front moving through in the next 48 hours."
Mrs. Simkins' eyes filled with tears. "Will my son be able to survive?" she asked hopefully.
Jarod moved up behind her, and as he spoke she turned to face him. "Your son was an experienced climber. He may be cold, and he may be hungry, but people have survived worse. I know he's out there somewhere, worrying about you, too." He saw the relief in the woman's eyes, and hoped someone had said the same sort of thing to his mother, once. He knew for certain how Victor Simkins felt. He had felt that way every day, for decades.
Stan took back the control of the room. "Everybody, get some sleep. We head out at the crack of dawn."
Volunteers began to scatter in all directions. Jarod turned to Derek, who had been standing right behind him. "Hey, Cobey, where's the nearest motel?"
Derek frowned. "About a hundred miles," he shot back irritably. "And when you get there, you'll wish it was another hundred."
Nia overheard the question as she picked up her backpack from a desk nearby. "I've got a spare room," she told Jarod with a smile. "Grab your gear. I'll wait for you outside."
A look of astonishment settled over Derek's face, and he turned to stare at Jarod. "Man, that must've been some search up there today!"
The Pretender's attention was still focused on the woman exiting the front door of the ranger station. "Hmmm?"
Cobey nudged Jarod's shoulder, stunned disbelief echoing in his voice when he spoke again. "Seniorita Iceberg invites you over for a slumber party? You are *in!*" He grinned broadly, suddenly envious, and decided it was time to head home himself.
Jarod got up from his perch on the edge of the table, confusion drawing his brows together for a moment. "In where?" he asked innocently.
