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by Randi A. Drubin
"The Glass Vortex" is the fourth story in the series The Doorway to the Edge Of Darkness. Set in Lynnwood, Connecticut, a fictional town of the author's own creation, chronicles the tremendous upheaval that a corporation known as the Centre has caused in the lives of several people who were either employed or imprisoned by the Centre-though employment at the Centre brings its own imprisonment. This story begins where the third story, "The Gemini Syndrome," leaves off. Moira Beaudette, formerly Miss Parker, has returned to the arms of her husband, Jarod Beaudette, but their reunion is short-lived when memories that were once deeply buried in Moira's subconscious come to the surface plunging her back into the nightmare of her lonely and painful childhood. In the midst of Moira's psychological unraveling is the re-emergence of a deadly force setting its sights on getting revenge; a revenge that sets in motion a chain of events aimed at destroying everything in its path.
LYNNWOOD PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL
LYNNWOOD, CT
Jarod waited anxiously in the waiting room of Dr. Sylvan Vestes. Moira had been in with him for almost 45 minutes. He hadn’t realized how hard this would be watching her commit herself. He kept telling himself it would only be for six weeks; six weeks, and she would be able to come home. He would be able to hold her then. He would be able to tell her everything would be all right, and she would believe him this time.
Jarod swallowed hard remembering the nights they spent in Henderson. The first night he saw her, she was in a drug induced coma. She was so vulnerable, so fragile that he had been afraid to touch her. He never left her side the whole time she was asleep. He talked to her. He spoke of their future together, and how they were going to Disneyworld as soon as the twins were old enough to enjoy it. He read the whole Anne Rice series to her. They were dark books full of vampires searching for purpose in their "prenatural" lives. At least the writing was good. He had to hand it to Anne Rice. The woman knew how to turn a phrase into something mystical and erotic. Moira had once told him "mysticism and eroticism were two halves of the same coin." Jarod didn’t know.
He held her hand while she slept, and waited for her to come back to him. Dr. Schutte had warned him not to expect too much from her at first. It was going to be a long time before she would be able to remember who she was. Dr. Schutte had also warned Jarod that Moira may never remember her life before the accident. Jarod had prepared himself for that. He would have loved her regardless.
Fortunately, Moira had regained enough of her memory to know that the man who had stayed with her was her husband. Jarod remembered the sad look in Moira’s eyes as she looked up at him. He saw the questions in her eyes. Who was this man? Why was he so familiar? Why was he so unhappy?
"You’re a lucky man," Dr. Schutte had told him, "Your wife’s a strong woman. She’s a fighter."
Unfortunately, the head injury was the tip of the iceberg. The damage to Moira’s legs and back was much worse. The high voltage Emil used when he played his game of twenty questions caused the muscles in Moira’s legs to contract in spasms leaving her gasping in agony. Even now, several months later, Moira was still adjusting to her new disabilities. Some days she could do it all. She would get up early seeing him off to work. She would play with the twins on the floor rolling around with them.
He could still hear the delighted squeals of the twins, Jenna and Justin, as Moira tickled them happily singing the song his mother had sung to him when he was a child. He never realized she knew it, but then Jarod remembered Moira’s ability to borrow memories as easily as borrowing someone’s shirt. She had borrowed this memory taking it as one of her own. Her own mother had sung in Gaelic, and Moira often sang to John-John in it teaching him the history of Ireland, and the mystical people she often referred to as the Precepts, the Protectors. She had lost that memory. Moira still had trouble believing that she had once spoken Gaelic to John, but John remembered, and he sang in Gaelic to the twins when he thought no one was listening.
Then there were the dark days where Moira wouldn’t have the strength to get out of bed. She would tremble biting her lip to keep from screaming from the agony as her legs went into spasms. Even the medicine Dr. Trenton gave her did nothing to stop the pain. And then there were the black days when he would come home to hear her screaming. On those days, Sydney would pack the kids up, and they would go on an adventure while Jarod went to coax Moira out of the darkness.
She hid in her studio throwing paint, canvases, and whatever else she could get her hands on. Jarod would sit outside the door and talk to her trying to remind her that they loved her, and that they wouldn’t leave her the way her father did. After Moira was done destroying everything, she would open the door. Her face would be red and tear streaked, and she would be gasping for breath, and Jarod would take her in his arms holding her while she sobbed soundlessly into his shirt.
He felt her frustration. A whole part of her life had been taken away from her, and she wanted it back. She had to have it back. And, now she was enrolling in a program called Electric Regression Therapy where Dr. Sylvan Vestes would put tiny electrodes into Moira’s brain and stimulate them sending small doses of electricity designed to jog the brain into giving up its secrets.. It sounded like something Raines would have come up with. Jarod was opposed to it completely, but Moira was desperate. He could still hear her sobbing as she struggled to remember the names of her son’s favorite stuffed animals, names that she and John-John had chosen together. There were other things she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember her bunny’s name. She didn’t remember that Dante was her dog and not Sydney’s. It was the little things at first, but then it became worse. He was losing her. He knew it. He couldn’t read her thoughts anymore. There was a wall up that he couldn’t get around or through. Maybe this new doctor would be able to do what Sydney could not.
The door to the inner office opened revealing a tall thin man in his twenties. "He looked too young to be a doctor," Jarod thought, but he was highly respected for his work with amnesia victims. Jarod had done a security search on him, and he was clean-almost too clean. He didn’t even have a parking ticket.
"Mr. Beaudette?"
Jarod got up meeting Dr. Vestes half-way. He grasped the outstretched hand shaking it firmly. He had a firm hand shake which was a good sign, "Please, call me Jarod."
Dr. Vestes smiled, "I’m Sylvan, or Syl for short."
Jarod followed the doctor to his office. Moira got up when she saw him. Jarod saw she had been crying. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue. Jarod felt her anguish intensely. His knees almost buckled as he went to her taking her in his arms hugging her tightly. He breathed in her scent knowing that in a few moments she would be leaving him. Six weeks he kept repeating in his mind as he held Moira in his arms.
Dr. Vestes cleared his throat nervously, "Well, folks, we have a lot of work to do, so the sooner we finish the sooner Moira will get well."
Jarod took a seat next to Moira in one of the leather chairs. He glanced at the wall of Diplomas that lined the walls, "I’m impressed, Syl."
Dr. Vestes caught Jarod’s glance and smiled sheepishly, "I couldn’t decide what specialty to choose, so I chose them all. You should have seen my father when he got the bill. Medical school is real expensive, especially when you’re an immigrant."
"You’re from Romania," Jarod said noticing the slight accent that was still underneath the surface. It was only noticable because the doctor was trying to hide it. A man who hides who he is can be dangerous, and Jarod started to look beyond the good doctor’s appearance of propriety. There was something wrong here, and the sick feeling in the pit of Jarod’s stomach had returned speaking to him intensely telling him to grab Moira and run.
Dr. Vestes smiled, "My father brought us over when I was 13. You should have seen me when I first started school. I was so scared of the teachers that I did double the homework. My father always taught me the value of working hard."
"He must be very proud," Jarod smiled.
"He died of a heart attack from working three jobs to put me through school, but let’s get back to Moira."
Moira reached for Jarod’s hand holding it tightly, "I know you don’t want me to do this. I know you’re scared, but if I don’t, I’ll go mad."
"I’ll always love you, Moira. Nothing will ever change that. It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember. You’ll always be my Ice Queen," Jarod said looking into Moira’s eyes becoming lost in their beauty, "Oh God! I can’t leave you like this. I’ll do anything. I’ll try harder. I’ll...I’ll..."
Moira went to him putting her head on Jarod’s lap, "Six weeks...Six weeks and I’ll be back. Just you wait and see, Franken-boy. You won’t be able to get rid of me."
Jarod touched Moira’s hair feeling how soft it was. Even with the butch haircut, Moira was still beautiful, "I’ll be right here if you need me. I won’t abandon you."
The door opened revealing a heavy set woman wearing a nurse’s uniform, "Your room is ready, Mrs. Beaudette. If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you there."
Moira stifled a sob and got to her feet allowing her fingers to brush against Jarod’s as they both let go, "I love you, Jarod. Always and forever...always and forever."
Jarod watched sadly as the door closed. He could already feel the emptiness begin to take hold inside his heart. It was almost as if he was losing her all over again.
"When can I visit her?" Jarod asked frowning.
"Didn’t Moira explain this to you?"
Jarod met the doctor’s gaze returning it with his own, "Explain what?"
"For the therapy to work, Jarod, Moira must have no distractions. She is not to have visitors or phone calls. There can also be no written correspondence. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until she’s well enough to come home," Dr. Vestes said looking directly into Jarod’s eyes.
Jarod felt the challenge. The doctor was sizing him up. He was testing him to see how far he could go. There was something definitely wrong here, and Jarod wanted to get Moira and go. He felt uneasy leaving her with a man he couldn’t trust as far as he could throw him.
"And, if what if I don’t agree to your conditions?"
Dr. Vestes frowned, "You really don’t have a choice. Your wife committed herself voluntarily."
Jarod got up. He could feel the rage coming to the surface. He struggled to stay focused, "If you hurt my wife, I will bury you so deep, you’ll have to claw your way out with a sledgehammer, Syl. You remember that! You remember that and we’ll get along fine."
"Dr. Vestes got up, "I assure you, Jarod, I will do nothing to endanger your wife. I want to help her. Don’t you want the same thing?"
Jarod glanced back at the doctor before leaving, "I want the same thing. I just don’t think your methods are they way to get it."
"You’ve tried everything else, Jarod. Now, let us do our job. I assure you my treatment works."
MARINER’S INN
LYNNWOOD, CT
Back at the hotel, Jarod felt a deep sense of emptiness. He could still smell her perfume lingering in the room as if she were still there. He sat on the edge of the bed heavily and gasped remembering the feel of Moira’s naked skin against his as he took her in his arms. They had been hungry for it last night. Moira had reached for him in the darkness caressing his face with her hands inviting him inside her. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this intimacy. He could still hear her screams of pleasure as he came hard inside her exploding in ecstasy.
Afterwards, Moira had gotten up to shower. Jarod had watched her thin form as she limped into the bathroom. He could tell that she was in pain again, and the shower was her way of washing out the soreness of her constricted muscles that was a constant reminder of the torture she was forced to endure at the Centre. When he heard the water running in the shower, Jarod got up. She would be gone from him for 6 weeks, and he was hungry for the closeness they shared.
He hesitated for a moment wondering if she wanted the same thing. The shower door opened revealing the sexiest woman Jarod had ever saw.
"I..." Jarod began.
She put her fingers to her lips, and moved aside allowing him entrance. Her eyes were full of tears as she came to him holding herself against him allowing him access to her.
He gasped taking her gently trying to prolong the pleasure. She trembled against him tightening herself around him as she came in spasms.
They were beyond words, and for the first time in three months, Jarod was able to explore Moira’s thoughts.
Jarod sobbed loudly remembering what he saw. As much as he didn’t trust Sylvan Vestes, he knew that for Moira’s sanity, she had to go through with the therapy. For that brief moment when Moira let him in, Jarod saw the horror of what went on while Moira was inprisoned at the Centre. He saw Moira strapped in an electric chair while volts of electricity charged through her legs, and then there was a burst of light before Jarod found himself staring into the face of Emil Raines, only Raines was terrified. There was something in the blue light that had terrified Raines, and Jarod wanted to explore it further, but Moira severed the connection, but not before Jarod caught a glimpse of a woman shackled on a birthing table screaming in terror and agony while a team of doctors stood over her.
He was going to ask what it meant. Who was the woman? Why was she shackled, and where was she? She wasn’t in a hospital room, nor was she in a delivery room. He was going to talk to Moira about it before he saw the terror in her eyes as she gazed into his willing him not to ask, and he didn’t knowing she wasn’t ready to discover the truth she had buried deep in her subconscious. Jarod only hoped that Vestes wouldn’t force Moira to remember things that she was not ready to remember.
Jarod looked at his watch. It was 2 pm. Moira had been at Lynnwood for three hours. Jarod hoped Vestes would let he settle in first before starting with his therapy. Moira needed to get her bearings. She wasn’t always like that, but since the "accident," she had to approach things on her terms or not at all. It had been that way when he told her that her father was alive, and in the hospital. She refused to see him. He had broken her trust. First he betrayed with his little contract that kept her shackled to the Centre, and then he looked the other way when the animals from Sweeper team 1 tore her apart. Jarod still cringed when he remembered what they had done to her, and Mr. Parker had been too busy making his own deals to gain immunity for himself to see how his faked suicide had hurt Moira.
It was only after Mr. Parker had started rehab that Moira found herself visiting him, but she didn’t refer to him as "Daddy." She wasn’t the "little girl" who desperately wanted to gain his approval. She was his daughter, but that was were it ended. The wounds were too deep this time. Mr. Parker refused to accept Moira’s anger. He simply tried to pat it away as if Moira were still a little girl. Moira stood her ground challenging him with her icy stare; a stare she had once reserved for him back when she was still hell bent on returning him to the Centre.
Jarod felt the old anger return. They had both lost so much of their lives to the Centre. They both lost their childhoods, but his loss was compounded by his younger brother’s death. Kyle had been assigned to Dr. Billy. They had worked together on a couple of simulations. Never once did either of them suspect they were brothers, and then finding out after thirty years only to be separated again made it worse. They were going to find their parents together, but the Centre stopped that, didn’t they? He didn’t want to think about it. The memories hurt too much. Jarod inhaled sharply trying to remain positive while at the same time knowing they were headed for another nightmare.
He resisted the urge to call Sydney. He didn’t want to hear a lecture on the dangers of Electro Regression therapy. He didn’t want to hear how he should have followed his instincts and forbade Moira from entering Vestes’ program. Sydney had been livid when Jarod had first broached the subject of the new therapy. Jarod couldn’t recall ever seeing Sydney so angry.
This treatment, if you want to call it that, is dangerous. You can’t force the mind into remembering traumatic experiences all at once. There is a reason why the mind forgets, and shocking it into sudden recall can send the person into a downward spiral of madness. If you allow Moira to go through with this treatment, you are going to lose her forever, Jarod. Is that what you want?
Jarod asked himself the same question over and over again, but seeing that image in Moira’s thoughts made him see that this treatment was a means for Moira to take back her life. If the treatment worked, Moira would be whole again. Sydney had accused him of being selfish. He didn’t understand that the woman he loved was slipping away from him just as her own mother had done before her. Jarod couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let his children grow up without a mother. He couldn’t let the Centre win this time. They had taken his parents. They had taken Moira’s mother and forced her to play a dangerous game of "let’s pretend," and in the end she was forced to become something she was not.
It still made Jarod sick thinking about the contract Moira had been forced to sign when she was first recalled from Corporate. Her father had promised if she brought in the "target," she would be free from all obligations to the Centre. What made it worse was that Moira believed him. She didn’t find out until it was too late that the Centre was a place where one never left, and if one were to try to leave, it would be in a body bag.
Jarod had been in Salt lake City, Utah investigating the apparent suicide of a young man who was rumored to have jumped 15 stories to his death off of a bridge. Jarod didn’t believe it. There were rope burns on the young man’s ankles, and on closer inspection of the body, Jarod found that the young man hadn’t died as a result of the fall, but from a blow to the head. He had learned from searching through the young man’s belongings that he was employed by a company called Jump America. Jarod had applied for a job posing as an expert bungee jumper, and found that the company was using sub-standard bungees. Brian Fuller, the young man, had found out the truth, and was murdered before he could notify the authorities.
All the young man was trying to do was to save lives, and he was murdered for it. Jarod couldn’t resist. His sense of outrage and anger propelled him to seek justice. He had almost stepped over the line, and someone almost died, but he had to admit seeing the horrified look on Jeffrey Latham’s face as he plunged head-first off the same bridge that Brian had allegedly jumped from still brought a smile to Jarod’s face. He was happy because this time he got to hang around longer to see the outcome of his clever sting. He grew comfortable, and then he grew careless, and before he knew it, his freedom had come to an abrupt end.
Jarod could still see the cruel smile on Miss Parker’s face as Sam and another Centre thug pulled him up as if they were reeling in a prized trout. He was Miss Parker’s trophy, and she couldn’t resist taunting him about it.
"Well, well, well. Looks like you made one jump too many, Rat-boy! I see you’re not smiling. What’s the matter? Did we ruin your little game?" Miss Parker sneered blowing smoke in his face.
"You’re not still mad about that trip to Disneyworld, are you?" Jarod asked as he was being hand-cuffed remembering the sick look on Miss Parker’s face as the park employees were finally able to stop the Tilt-or-Whirl allowing her to exit the ride.
Miss Parker smiled squinting her eyes into cat like slits, "I bet Mickey Mouse still has nightmares of our little chat in Space Mountain. And you thought riding around in the dark would scare me. Please! You’re losing your touch, Boy-Wonder. You’ll have to do better than that next time...Oh, I forgot..There won’t be a next time!"
Jarod resisted the urge to strike back. He almost did, but he had grown used to breathing, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Miss Parker slid in next to him putting her hand on his thigh, "What’s the matter, Jarod? I thought you’d be happy to see me."
"Get your hands off me, Miss Parker," Jarod said coolly.
"What’s the matter, Jarod? You’ve never had a real woman?"
"You’re not a woman, Miss Parker. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a woman," Jarod said looking away. The little girl he fell in love with was gone. Her father had seen to that. He had finally succeeded in getting the "son" he always wanted.
Miss Parker pulled his face towards her seeing his eyes filling with tears, "Stop crying, Jarod!"
Jarod swallowed back his grief feeling it harden him, "Is that what your father told you to do when your mother died? You don’t remember, do you?"
"Remember what, Jarod?"
"You were at your mother’s wake. Remember what your father did when he found you crying under the stairs?" Jarod asked seeing Miss Parker wince at the sudden reminder of a memory that had been long since buried, "You do remember, don’t you?"
"He hit me," Miss Parker said looking away.
"He hit a little girl because she was crying for her mother. Is that who you’ve become, Miss Parker?"
Miss Parker inhaled deeply, "Leave my mother out of this!"
"I can’t do that, Miss Parker. You could be just like her. She was such a kind woman. She saved so many children. So many families were spared the agony of losing their children, and this is how you honor her memory. You’ve become the very evil she was trying to protect you from."
Miss Parker’s hands trembled as she withdrew a cigarette from her monogramed gold cigarette case, a gift from her father. She lit up taking a ragged breath as she pulled the nicotine into her lungs, "My mother is dead, Jarod. You want me to be like her, so I guess what you’re really saying is that you want me to be dead too. Is that what you want, Jarod? Do you want me to die?"
Jarod looked at her seeing the fear and anger in her eyes, "You’re destroying all of the good she did. He’s using you to dishonor her memory. Is that what you want? Is that what you really want?"
"Why do you insist on making this personal, Jarod? Why can’t you understand this is business. My orders are to deliver you back to the Centre, and then I get what I really want," Miss Parker said in frustration.
"And you’re just following orders," Jarod said thickly.
"Yes," Miss Parker said returning his gaze with her own.
"That’s what the Nazi’s said when they led 12 million unsuspecting men, women, and children to their deaths. They thought they were going to the showers. The train cars were hot and dirty, and they followed the soldiers thinking they were going to get relief from the agony, but instead they were systematically murdered under the guise of a greater good," Jarod said losing himself for the moment in the feeling. He stopped when he saw the tears running down Miss Parker’s cheeks, "You can’t sit there and tell me you don’t feel for those people, for those poor children who were forced to participate in Raines’ sick perverted experiments..."
"There is no comparison between what happened to those people and this, Jarod. This isn’t persecution against a whole race of people. The Centre isn’t a Nazi death camp, and we’re not leading people to their deaths. As far as the children are concerned, you needn’t worry about them. My father assures me they’re well cared for," Miss Parker said looking down at the floor.
"You believed him? How could you be so fucking blind? How could you forget the terrorified screams coming from the sim labs in the lower levels? I know you heard them. I know you remember them. You heard them through the air ducts the same way I did," Jarod said forcing his voice to remain steady.
"Sydney always told me they were just nightmares, and then he would give me a glass of water.."
Her voice trailed off wavering. Jarod saw her eyes begin to water as she choked back her grief. He became her for a moment feeling her heart begin to thunder in her chest, and then as quickly as he was there, he was back inside his own mind, "You’re terrified of going back there. It’s taking every ounce of energy to force yourself to return. If you’re so scared to go back, why not just leave?"
"I’m not scared, but you should be. What do you think Mr. Raines is going to do when he sees you? Something tells me he’s not going to greet you at the door with open arms, Boy-Wonder," Miss Parker said becoming ice again.
Jarod shook his head in disbelief, "You can’t lie to me, Moira. I know you. We grew up together. You can’t sit there pretending that you’re not scared everytime you walk through the Centre’s doors. You can’t tell me you’re not afraid of Raines. You forgot who I am, Moira. I know when people lie, and you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re safe."
Miss Parker turned to face him. He could see the fury in her in eyes as she slapped him hard across the face, "Don’t you ever call me that again. I am Miss Parker, and don’t you forget it!"
As Jarod got out of the car, Sam tripped him sending Jarod sprawling powerless to stop himself. Jarod tried to get up, but Sam came at him growling and kicking at him. Jarod heard his ribs crack as Sam continued to kick him hard.
"Sam! Stop it!" Miss Parker shouted.
Jarod heard the anger mixed with genuine concern in her voice as she continued to berate Sam for his senseless attack on the target.
"If you ever kick that man again, I will kill you," Miss Parker growled menacingly as she knelt over Jarod helping him up, "Jarod, are you all right?"
Jarod tried to move, but the pain left him gasping. He saw her face. Her eyes were different, and then he felt an intense heat where Sam had kicked him. He looked down to see her hand placed on his side, "What the..?"
Miss Parker frowned withdrawing her hand quickly, "Are you well enough to walk?"
Jarod sat up expecting to feel pain, but instead felt a dull ache, "I’m okay. I can walk"
On the Lear jet, Miss Parker sat up front away from him. He was sitting in the back next to Sam. Jarod looked at him coldly before closing his eyes. He kept thinking about what just happened. By rights, he should have been doubled over in pain, but all that remained from his run-in with Sam was a dull ache. Her eyes seemed to grow luminous, and her hand seemed to radiate light. He had read about people who practiced healing. They called it "the laying on of hands." He had even attended a church revival meeting where for a small fee, you could be "healed." Jarod smiled as he considered the possibility of Miss Parker and himself taking their act on the road. He could discover what ailed them, and Miss Parker could heal them, or shoot them depending on her mood that day.
"What the hell are you smiling about, freak?" Sam growled.
From the front of the plane, Jarod heard a sigh, and then he saw Miss Parker get up.
"Go up front, Sam. I’ll watch the prisoner."
"Are you sure, Miss P." Sam asked getting up.
"Are you questioning my authority, Sam?"
Jarod watched the man start to back away. He almost felt sorry for him, but not quite.
Miss Parker sat down next to him. He could smell her perfume. He looked out the window watching the clouds wondering if this would be the last time he would see them. He felt Miss Parker watching him. He turned towards her returning her gaze with his own. For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of the little girl he used to know. She was still there struggling to emerge, and then he saw a sorrow that cut right through him. His swallowed hard at the lump that had started to form in his throat.
"Can I ask you something, Jarod?"
Her voice was thick. Jarod could still see the sorrow in her eyes, "Yes."
"Before, when I asked you if you wanted me to die, did you?"
Jarod looked at her carefully before he spoke, "No."
"Would it bother you if I did?" Miss Parker asked looking away.
Jarod took a deep breath, "What’s this about, Miss Parker?"
"Answer the question, Jarod. Would it bother you if I were to die?"
"Yes, Miss Parker, it would."
"Would you cry for me?"
"I cry for you now," Jarod said thickly. He tried to swallow his grief, but couldn’t. He felt his tears streak down his face as he gazed into Miss Parker’s eyes, "I have always cried for you, Moira."
The Lear landed. Miss Parker helped him up escorting him to the black sedan that had been waiting for them. Before he got in, he heard her whisper something in his ear. She had whispered a plea of forgiveness. Jarod watched her walk alone to her own car, and then he began to sob knowing without knowing that he would probably never see her again. She would get her freedom, but it wouldn’t be the freedom she had asked for. She had decided on the plane what path she would take, and Jarod began to understand with haunting clarity the reasons behind her questions. No one had cried for her mother, so she figured no one would cry for her as well.
She was wrong. He would cry for her, and if her father didn’t, Jarod would cry for both of them. "It isn’t fair! Life isn’t fair!" Jarod muttered angrily under his breath.
Sydney was waiting for him as they pulled into the driveway of the Centre.
"Jarod, it’s good to see you," Sydney said smiling.
Jarod nodded as the Centre thugs prodded him along, "Where’s Miss Parker, Sydney?"
"She’s not with you?"
Jarod was about to say something when he felt a sting, and then everything started to become a huge blur. He heard Sydney ask, "Was that really necessary?" And, then the blackness came dragging him under.
When he woke, he was in his old room. Everything was as he had left it a little over 6 months ago. Jarod started to get up, but sat down quickly when the room began to spin. How long had he been out? He looked down to check his watch only to realize it was gone. There were no clocks in the room. Jarod rubbed his eyes sleepily wondering if it were day or night. In the Centre, you never knew.
On his desk someone had left a book. Jarod got up unsteadily gripping the chair to keep from falling. It was a copy of an Anne Rice book, Interview with A Vampire. He took it, and got back in bed preparing to read when he saw a note sticking out from the front flap. He smiled when he read it.
Sorry, it’s not exactly Faust, but it’s the best I could do.
M-
Miss Parker knew he liked fiction. When he was younger, Sydney never let him read anything but the textbooks that would prepare him for his sims. When they were children, before Mrs. Parker’s death, Miss Parker had brought him her school books. After Mrs. Parker died, the books stopped coming, and then the little girl he enjoyed being with disappeared. He missed her deeply, and now she got what she wanted. She had gotten her freedom, but at what price?
He hoped her freedom was worth it, and then in horror Jarod remembered Miss Parker’s odd questions from their conversation on the plane. He had to tell someone, but who? Who would listen to him?
The lights flickered before they went out, and then the door to his room opened revealing a dark figure carrying a flashlight.
"Don’t make a sound! Don’t ask questions! Follow me!" A woman’s voice whispered urgently.
As Jarod drew close to the woman, he recognized the perfume. It was Miss Parker, and she was running grabbing at his arm trying to pull him with her..
"I re-routed the cameras, so the guards will only see a continuous loop of you sleeping. It was the best I could do, but it should give us enough time to get to the tunnel."
Jarod ran beside her quietly listening to her breathing. She was starting to wheeze. He guessed it was from the heavy smoking. Miss Parker stopped when she reached the tunnel. In the light from the flashlight, Jarod saw fear in her eyes.
"This tunnel always gives me the creeps, Jarod."
"It’s the hallway of silence," Jarod said sadly remembering the rumors of all the children who died there while trying to escape.
We’re all lost down here, and you’ll be lost too if you don’t move along.
Jarod felt Miss Parker take his hand, "Did you...?"
"Let’s get out of here, Miss Parker. I think we’ve worn out our welcome," Jarod said pulling Miss Parker down the long passageway leading to a stairway that lead them to their freedom.
"I brought the car around back. Come on!"
Jarod slipped into the passenger seat while Miss Parker started the car. They rode without headlights until they were a safe distance away from the Centre, and then Miss Parker flicked them on. In the dim light, Jarod saw a small bruise on Miss Parker’s right cheek.
"He hit you! The son of a bitch hit you!," Jarod said reaching towards her trying to examine the bruise.
"It’s nothing, Jarod. I’m fine. Let’s just not talk. I’m tired of talking," Miss Parker said heavily.
Jarod took her hand squeezing it gently, "Why are you doing this?"
"Jarod, please. Just let it go!"
Jarod nodded seeing the tears begin to streak down her face. Before he realized what he was doing, he had placed his hand on her leg feeling the softness of her skin. He felt her tremble, and was about to remove his hand when she covered it with her own guiding him towards her thigh.
"What are we doing, Miss Parker?" Jarod said continuing to stroke the inside of her thigh while Miss Parker let out tiny gasps.
Miss Parker nodded as she pulled into a deserted clearing. He started to protest, but she kissed him silencing him as she explored him. He found her growing wet under his touch as he began inserting his fingers into her feeling her tighten around him.
They moved into the back seat where she writhed in escasty as Jarod explored her further with his mouth. She started to pant as she grew closer to climax. Jarod felt her wetness on his face as she came in waves. She reached down stroking Jarod’s hair finally pulling him up towards her finding his mouth with hers.
Jarod gazed into her eyes seeing himself through hers. As if sensing his own needs, Miss Parker began to undue the buttons on his jeans. He gasped as she started to tease him with her tongue licking his long, thick shaft first before taking each ball into her mouth sucking on it gently.
Finally, Jarod couldn’t stand it. He pinned her to the backseat and took her with one thrust. She wrapped her long legs around him forcing him in deeper tightening herself around him while he exploded gasping.
Afterwards, Jarod held her as Miss Parker started to cry.
"You were right about the Centre. They’re never going to let me go, Jarod."
Jarod sighed stroking her hair, "And, they’re never going to stop looking for me."
"I guess were both screwed, aren’t we?"
"Well, almost. At least now we have each other, " Jarod smiled.
Miss Parker returned his smile, "I won’t let them catch you, but you have to promise me something, Jarod."
"Yes, anything."
"Never stop running. Never look back , and never stop hoping," Miss Parker said quietly.
"What about you? What will you do?" Jarod asked meeting her worried gaze.
"I’ll be fine. Just be careful. You could have been killed this time..." Miss Parker said through tears.
Jarod took her in his arms again remembering how good her skin felt against his. There was something vaguely familiar about her. He tried to reach for the memory, but it eluded his grasp. The more he tried, the further it receded until finally Jarod gave up. There would always be time for that later when they were safe, and far away from the Centre.
"I have to leave, Jarod. I have to be by myself for awhile. I don’t know who I am anymore."
Jarod nodded, "I understand. I often feel that way."
As Jarod was getting out of the car, Miss Parker turned to him watching him sadly, "Can you do me a favor? Can you put Yellow roses on my mother’s grave?"
"I don’t understand. Wouldn’t it mean more coming from her little girl?"
"I can’t explain. Please, just make sure she gets her roses," Miss Parker said driving away.
Suddenly as Jarod started to run, the memory that had eluded him came back. They were on the roof. They had made love on the roof... Jarod started running faster panic filling his senses as he tried to catch up with the speeding car, but it was no use. Miss Parker was gone, and then Jarod understood why she wanted him to put the roses on her mother’s grave. She knew she wouldn’t be there to do it herself. She was going to get her freedom her own way, and he had to stop her. He couldn’t let it end that way. She deserved better than that. He deserved better than that.
The phone rang bringing Jarod back to the present. He let it ring a few times before reaching for it.
"Mr. Beaudette?"
"Yes," Jarod said wearily.
"I have a Dr. Green here. He says he needs to talk you. Do you want me to send him up?"
"Thanks, Alfred. Tell him I’ll be right down," Jarod said rubbing his eyes steeling himself for another argument, another lecture of "how could you?" He could ask the same thing of him. There were so many things he could ask. There were so many things better left unsaid.
**********************************************************************************************
LYNNWOOD PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL
Moira stood at the window looking out the hospital’s expansive scenary. It was peaceful and green. In the distance, there was a fountain set off with roses of various colors. Moira choked back a tear as she saw that most of the roses were yellow. "Mother always loved yellow roses," she thought sadly. She missed her, and now that she was alone, she missed her even more.
The nurse had gone on about how she was lucky. She got the best view in the entire ward. Moira had nodded politely, but inside, she was cursing herself for being such a fool to think she could do this alone. Even when she was working for the Centre, she was always able to draw from Jarod’s strength-his calm resolve that anything was possible.
"We can get past this, Moira. We can lead a normal life. We don’t have to run anymore. We’re free. We’re finally free," he had told her several times when the disjointed memories of what went on during her imprisonment at the Centre continued to surface leaving her bewildered and confused. It was like she was putting together a giant jigsaw puzzle, but none of the pieces seemed to fit. She was so confused, and now all Moira wanted to do was to be held. She wanted to feel Jarod’s strong arms around her telling her it was all right, telling her that he loved her, and telling her she was still beautiful.
The door to the room opened. Beverly Wilkins, the nurse from before, came in smiling, "How are things, Honey?"
"I’m fine. I guess, I’m just missing my husband," Moira said sadly. She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep, but everytime she closed her eyes, the horrific images attacked her leaving her gasping and clutching for air.
"I’m drowning in here,"she had told Jarod on the way to the hospital as he tried once again to talk her out of trying Dr. Vestes’ treatment, but she had stood her ground.
"I need to do this. I need to know who I am- who I was. I need to know the truth."
He had looked at her then trying to read her thoughts, but she wouldn’t let him. She loved him too much to draw him back into the nightmare. He had spent his whole life running never being able to stop, and never being able to get anywhere, and now it was her turn. The truth that lay buried in her mind was there, and Moira hoped that Dr. Vestes would be able to help her uncover it before it was too late...
Too late for what? Moira couldn’t answer that. All she knew was that she needed to remember something important. The image of a little boy came to her. He was the boy from the tunnel. "Remember," he had told her before he disappeared. Remember what? Moira sighed heavily as she sat on the bed. She could feel her head start to pound.
"Can I get an aspirin. My head’s starting to hurt," Moira asked Nurse Wilkins.
"Sure, I’ll be right back," the nurse said smiling.
Moira gratefully took the aspirins from the nurse and swallowed them with a cup of orange juice, "Thank you."
"Why don’t you take a nap before dinner, Mrs. Beaudette," the nurse said smiling.
Moira nodded sleepily as she leaned back on the bed. She could feel herself falling asleep even before she found the pillow. She meant to ask Nurse Wilkins if she had really given her aspirin, but she couldn’t form the words to speak, and soon she felt the tide of darkness pull her under again. This time she didn’t have the energy to fight against it, and then the nightmare began.
.."Broots? Sydney?" Miss Parker called out nervously. She waited for them before she realized they were not coming. She was alone, and the dark coldness of the old sim lab made her wrap her arms around herself in an effort to fight off the chills. The charred and broken toys still littered the floor, and the smell of death continued to assault Miss Parker as she walked further into the room. "I’m walking into the entrance of Hell," Miss Parker thought as she felt herself unwillingly propelled further and further in the dark, dank sim lab. In the distance, the Jack in the Box sat propped against the wall open. The tiny clown seemed to smile at her as she approached the charred toy. The toy had been moved. Miss Parker was sure of it. When she was there with Sydney and Broots, it was among the other toys, and now it was open. It had been closed before, and now the jack in the box was open almost beckoning her to pick it up.
Miss Parker reached for the toy picking it up before dropping it in terror. An image of a little girl came to her. She was playing when she heard a scream. The little girl got up running, "Mommy! Mommy!" Miss Parker followed the screaming child down another corridor leading into another part of the sim lab. She stopped abruptly when she saw them. They were huddled around a woman who was shackled to a birthing table. One of the doctors ordered the woman to push. The woman screamed, "I can’t. Please, don’t let them hurt me." Another doctor pushed down on the woman’s stomach, "You have to push now!" The woman gasped as she took a deep breath gearing up for another push.
"Oh, shit! It’s in breach position, Dr. Raines," the doctor standing between the woman’s legs began. His voice trembled in terror.
"I don’t care what you have to do. Cut her open, tear her apart, but get the baby before it dies," Raines said menacingly.
The little girl had been hiding behind one of the desks. She stood up and started screaming, "Mommy! Mommy! Don’t hurt my Mommy!"
The woman began to sob softly, "It’s all right, honey. Mommy’s going to be fine. It’s okay. It’s..."
"We’re losing her, Dr. Raines. I’m going to do a C-section. It’s her only chance. Please, get the anesthesia," another doctor said as he began preparing the woman for the surgery.
Miss Parker felt her blood run cold when she heard Raines’ reply.
"There’s no time for that. Just cut her open."
The doctor glared at Raines, "I’m giving her a local then. I will not subject anybody to that kind of pain."
"I don’t care what you do. Just do it," Raines said menacingly as he started after the little girl.
The child started backing away, "No! No!"
Miss Parker saw the evil gleam in Raines’ eyes as he began chasing the little girl through the empty corridors calling to her to stop. Miss Parker tried to run after Raines, but something held her back.. Something kept her frozen unable to turn away from the horrific scene playing out before her. She could hear the incessant beep of the heart monitor, and the panicked voices of the doctors as they rushed to save the mother and child.
It was always the same scene. Miss Parker knew the baby would cry, and then the woman would reach for it only to see the doctors taking it away, and then the woman would cry out in anguish knowing she would never get to hold the child she carried inside her for nine months..
"Where are you taking my baby. Wait! I want to see her. I want to hold her. Please, just let me hold her just this once. I promise I’ll cooperate. Please!"
Miss Parker trembled as she sobbed at the hoplessness of the woman’s situation. She felt her pain, her loss as if it were her own. She tried to run to the woman, but she couldn’t make her legs obey, and then the woman, as if hearing Miss Parker’s strangled cries, turned her head towards her. Their eyes met, and then Miss Parker began to scream.
Moira gasped jerking herself from the nightmare. She knew the woman in her dream. The woman shackled on the birthing table was her mother. Her mother had been the one shackled to the birthing table. Moira sat up in bed gasping. She didn’t understand. She didn’t remember her mother ever being pregnant.
"Since when do you trust you own memories? Haven’t you figured it out by now? Or do I need to draw you a fucking picture!"
Moira reached for the lamp, "Who’s there?"
"Let’s see what Mrs. Potato head can do."
Moira pulled back the covers gingerly swinging her legs over the edge of the bed wincing in pain as the muscles in her legs began to spasm, "All right, bastard! Come out where I can see you."
"Oh, you must be feeling lucky today."
"Who are you?" Moira growled feeling her anger take control, "Come out here, coward!"
"Oooh, I’m quaking in my boots, twisted sister," the voice laughed.
Moira shrank back, "Maya, is that you?"
"You were expecting someone else? Someone sweeter, like you? Oh, please, Moira. You’re pathetic!"
"You sick, demented bitch! How dare you call me pathetic, Miss Valentine, or would you prefer to be called Raines’ science project?" Moira laughed enjoying the sense of power her barbs gave her.
"Oooh! The bitch grew back her claws. Oh, goody, goody. And here I thought you were completely domesticated, or were you pretending to be domesticated?"
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"All right enough of this bullshit, Moira. I’m going to make this real simple. You better stop messing around. You better start boning up on some family history, twisted sister, or there won’t be a family history to bone up on. You got that!"
"What are you talking about? What family history? What bullshit, Maya? I don’t understand."
"You better get your act together, or I’ll get it together for you," Maya growled, "You better get it together before it’s too late..."
"What are you talking about? I don’t understand! Wait! Wait, Maya! Wait!" Moira cried collapsing against the bed feeling a sense of dread overtake her as she fell back into the darkness. In the darkness, Moira saw her mother. She had been crying, and then she saw the others. Moira tried to hide her face from the horror of the murdered woman who stood watching her chanting.
"He’s killing us to kill you. He’s killing...He’s killing..."
Moira screamed as the women with their dead-pan faces came towards her chanting holding their hands out to her begging her to help them.
"He’s killing us to kill you..."
In the distance, Moira saw Maya standing alone. She was smiling.
"You know what has to be done, Moira. Only you can stop him. Only you can speak for those who cannot. You have a mouth; you can scream. You can speak for us. They’ll listen to you. They know you speak the truth."
Moira nodded. She understood what she needed to do. She would be their voice; their connection to the living, and their instrument of revenge, "And, what if I can’t stop him?"
"He’ll kill you, and then he’ll kill the girl child you call Jenna. He’ll kill all of us."
"Why?" Moira asked trembling. Suddenly, the room grew cold. Moira’s teeth started to chatter as she felt chills sink into her bones paralysing her.
Moira climbed back under the covers trying to get warm, but not even the heavy woolen blankets could keep the cold from freezing her until all of the warmth she once shared with Jarod was gone leaving behind a heart turned to ice. She knew what she had to do, and she had to do it fast before...before he killed her too.
**********************************************************************************************
DEMPSEY’S BAR AND GRILL
LYNNWOOD, CT
Sydney sat woodenly watching the entrance. His thoughts raced. How could he tell him? How could he not? Jarod’s life, so many lies, so many half truths. Sydney gazed at the black case on the floor under the table. He hated what it contained. It was his last resort. He had used it before. He had used it on Jarod, and several times on Moira.
He wanted to protect them. Jarod was like a son to him, and Moira... He didn’t want to think about Moira. It was her idea.
"Make me forget, Sydney! Make me forget him!"
It had been a long time since the black case had been opened. It had been a long time since the device had been charged.
"Look into the light, Miss Parker."
The Kefkin 45 or K45 was one of the Centre’s creations. It was more practical than the old neuron splitter Raines had fallen in love with, and not as messy. There were less questions. All you needed was the subject’s attention, and viola` your work was done. Sydney frowned. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it again. The K45 was not always successful. The memories always found a way to resurface. They did with Moira.
Could he tell Jarod the truth? He wanted to spare him the agony. Kyle was dead. Shot to death when he stepped in front of a bullet meant for his brother.
"Do it, Syd! Make him forget."
"I can’t, Miss Parker. I can’t."
"He blames himself for Kyle’s death. He’s angry. The rage is destroying him. If you love him.."
"You’re asking me to erase Jarod’s memory. He’ll never trust me again."
"If you don’t, you’ll lose him, Sydney."
In the end, he had agreed. The K45 worked its magic, and Jarod forgot that horrible day in Arizona when his younger brother gave his own life to save his. Sydney sighed. Things had a way of catching up to you. The photographs he found on the front of his car had unnerved him. Someone was meddling with the time continium. It was like a gigantic door had opened, and now somehow Kyle was alive, but something was horribly wrong. Sydney looked down at the case again. How much of the truth should he tell? How much would be safe?
"Tell him nothing."
Sydney looked up startled, "Jacob."
The man sitting at the next table smiled, "He’s not ready, brother. You’ll know the right time. Let the mystery unravel."
"He’ll never trust me. He has to know the truth."
"Tell him now, and you’ll lose him forever. Trust your instincts."
Sydney opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Jarod. The pretender looked tired. Sydney smiled as he came towards the table.
"If you came here to tell me I was wrong to allow Moira to do this, I’m leaving. I have enough self guilt to have you adding to it?" Jarod said wearily.
Sydney sighed, "I’m not here to lecture, as if it would work anyway. I have things I have to tell you."
"What things?" Jarod asked seeing the haunted look in Sydney’s face, "Is this about Moira? Did you find something out about Dr. Vestes?"
Sydney frowned as the waitress came with their coffees. He waited for her to leave before he spoke, "I’m not getting any younger, Jarod. I’m not well. I haven’t been able to sleep since I first learned Moira wanted to undergo Vestes’ barbaric treatment. I know I’ll never be forgiven for the things I’ve done..."
"You were always good at tormenting yourself. These things you say you’ve done, Sydney, were done out of fear and love. You tried to protect me. I would have wound up just like Kyle if it hadn’t been for you. You saved Moira..." Jarod began.
Sydney looked down at his coffee before returning Jarod’s gaze, "I’m not a saint, Jarod. I’ve done unspeakable things; things that I will rot in Hell for."
"Somehow, I can’t see you rotting in Hell, Syd," Jarod said attempting to smile.
"I was one of the original geneticists working on the Pretender Project. It was my idea, but Raines perfected it. He figured out a way to simulate the pretender gene. I tried to stop him. I tried to warn him that you can’t make a pretender; a true pretender is born not made, but he wouldn’t listen. In the end he implanted several embryos in various unsuspecting women..."
"You’ve already told me this, Sydney."
"I told you part of it. I told you about John and Little Catherine, but I never told you about the others," Sydney said softly. The mystery had begun to unravel.
"Others? What others?"
"Raines had a colleague working at Harvard Medical school. He specialized in infertility. Mrs. Parker went to see him. She thought another child would save her marriage, so she and Mr. Parker tried unsuccessfully for six months to conceive. She was desperate. I didn’t find out about it until it was too late. She was three months along when Mr. Parker threatened to divorce her if she had the child."
"Divorce her? What on earth for? Didn’t he want the baby?" Jarod asked in confusion.
"The child Mrs. Parker was carrying was not his. Raines’ colleague implanted Mrs. Parker with one of the embryos from the project, and Mr. Parker wanted her to abort it."
Jarod felt his eyes begin to water remembering the image of the woman lying shackled to the birthing table, "She didn’t, did she? Raines made her have it, didn’t he?"
"Yes, " Sydney said thickly, "The baby Mrs. Parker carried was actually Mr. Raines’. He thought with his genuis and Mrs. Parker’s abilities, the baby would be of some use to the Centre."
"But, it wasn’t, was it?"
"Raines was going to kill it. He was trying to suffocate it when Mr. Parker stopped him. I tried to find out what happened to it, but the records were destroyed in the fire. I was about to give up when I received an interesting letter in the mail. It was addressed to Mr. Parker, but I opened it anyway."
"You opened Mr. Parker’s mail?"
Sydney frowned, "The letter was from one of those private care facilities. I thought it was a brochure. He always throws those things out, so I wanted to read it before it was thrown out."
"It wasn’t a brochure, I gather."
"It was a letter thanking Mr. Parker him for his generous contribution. Enclosed was a picture. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw it. I thought I was looking at Moira. I had to look again. The woman was younger, of course, but she had the same eyes, same red-auburn hair, but her smile was so wistful. It almost looked like she was lost."
"You said she was supposed to have abilities. What kind of abilities, Sydney? Is she like Little Catherine. Is she a..." Jarod asked attempting to control his fear.
"She’s not a psychopath, Jarod. She’s, well, she’s special."
"Special? What kind of special?" Jarod asked thinking of Angelo, one of the children who had been imprisoned at the Centre, who had the ability to absorb different personalities, "Is she another Angelo?"
"I don’t think so. They thought she was brain damaged at first. They’ve never been able to test her I.Q., so it’s hard to determine what her abilities are. She rarely speaks. She communicates mostly in gestures. At first, they thought she was autistic, but autistic children don’t like to be held. Madeline loves to give hugs. She is a very intriguing and loving individual."
"I see why Raines wanted nothing to do with her. He couldn’t turn her into a monster like he did to my brother, so he wanted her destroyed. I never thought I’d be saying this, but thank God for Mr. Parker," Jarod said thickly.
"I had a long talk with Mr. Parker this morning. He told me how it felt to be holding that little life in his hands. He could have destroyed her as well, but there was something about her that stopped him. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy something so beautiful. He called her an angel."
"Does Moira know about her? Does she know she has a half sister?"
"I don’t know, Jarod, but I think Maya knew. I think she saw Mrs. Parker give birth, or at least I think it was Maya. I could never tell those two apart."
"Raines didn’t really want Mrs. Parker’s stock then?"
"He was livid when he saw Miss Parker there. Only Mr. Parker and the staff doctors were to know about the child. He had no idea that the little girl he saw was too terrorized by what she witnessed that she would never be ever to vocalize it. He ordered the hit on Moira as a means of protecting the project, and if it put Catherine over the edge, then that would be an added benefit. He had no idea that he had the wrong twin. Moira had no idea what Raines was referring to when he cornered her in the hallway outside my office. He was about to hit her when I rescued her. She told me she didn’t know what Dr. Billy was talking about, but then again she could have been too scared to say anything."
"Thank God Raines’ reign of terror is over," Jarod said in relief, but the look in Sydney’s eyes said otherwise, "Raines is dead, right?"
Sydney sighed. He looked down at his dinner that had grown cold long ago, "Yes, he’s dead alright..."
"Then why the long face, Syd? Finding Moira’s sister is a good thing, isn’t it. At least now she has another family member to connect with..." Jarod began. He froze in mid sentence when he saw tears begin to streak down the older man’s face, "My God, Syd. What is it? What’s going on?"
Sydney gasped. He voice grew thick, "I think Madeline and Moira are in grave danger. I lied to you about Kyle. I told you they didn’t find any remains..."
"You said the van had a full gas tank, and the fire burned for three days," Jarod began, and then it hit him, "Teethe don’t burn, do they, Syd? You never found his remains because there weren’t any. My brother is still out there. He’s still out there somewhere. Why didn’t you tell me Kyle was alive? I can’t believe you would withold that from me. How could you?"
"I wanted to tell you before you and Moira left, but you were so angry. I should have made you listen. I should have told you, and now it’s too late. He’s...He’s..."
"He’s what, Sydney?"
Sydney reached into his coat pocket withdrawing an old news clipping from Philadelphia. He looked at it sadly before handing it to Jarod, "I think you better read this."
Jarod read the article. His hands began to shake. His mouth went dry. He struggled to keep himself in control, but he felt himself grow dizzy. The article was about the abduction of a young college coed. She was on her way to class when someone in a gray van stopped to talk to her. One of the whitnesses said that the young woman got into the van, and then he heard a scream. The van had taken off after that. The young woman’s body was found a week later. She was tied to a tree with the words "I decide who lives or dies" carved into her chest.
Jarod gasped trying to bite back the fear that threatened to paralyse him, "This clipping is over five years old. How could you have kept this from me? How could you? I could have stopped him. I could have saved that woman, Sydney."
"I didn’t know. I swear, Jarod. I didn’t find out until yesterday. Someone had left the news clipping on my car. When I read the article, I knew it had to be Kyle. I knew that it was a mistake to assume he would never resurface."
"I have to get Moira. I have to get her out of Lynnwood before he finds her, Sydney. He’ll kill her," Jarod said getting up to leave. He couldn’t prevent the coed’s death, but he could prevent this one.
"Jarod, wait! Moira’s safe for now. He can’t get at her at Lynnwood. They have a state of the art security system in place, and I’ve notified Dr. Vestes that Moira could be in danger. If we get her out now, we would make it easier for Kyle to get to her," Sydney panted trying to keep up with Jarod.
Jarod turned to him, "You don’t get it, do you? You have no idea what that animal is capable of, do you? It doesn’t matter what kind of security system Lynnwood has, and Dr. Vestes won’t be able to do anything. Kyle doesn’t need to break in; he’s a pretender. All he has to do is walk in posing as an orderly or doctor, and then he’s got her."
Jarod got into the car slamming the door angrily, "Why didn’t you tell me Kyle was alive? Why?"
"I wanted to. You have to believe me, Jarod. I was going to tell you as soon as I learned Kyle had escaped the explosion, but Moira made me promise not to. She told me the Centre was going to try to use Kyle to get to you."
Jarod nodded as he remembered the night Moira had helped him escape from the Centre. He never did find out why she helped him, or where she went after she left him.
"Moira helped me escape from the Centre after she captured me in Utah."
"I know. She told me," Sydney frowned as Jarod continued to drive.
"I have to ask you a question about that night. Something’s been bothering me, and I had a dream just before you called. I think I’m starting to remember things, Syd. Moira had asked me to put flowers on her mother’s grave. When I asked her why, she refused to tell me. I have to know what happened to her when she returned to the Centre."
"I can’t tell you. I promised her I would never tell you."
"Sydney, I have to know. I think when she left me she was going to commit suicide. She asked me if it would bother me if she were to die? I think she was trying to ask for help. She wanted to know that someone cared," Jarod said thickly.
"Please, Jarod. She made me promise. She begged me not to tell anyone what she did after she left you."
"Please, Sydney, I have to know. I have to know for my own peace of mind. I won’t tell her you told me."
"I guess given the situation, you have a right to know the truth."
"Thank you, Syd."
Sydney sat quietly trying to compose his thoughts. There had been so much confusion that night. He had gone down to Jarod’s room only to find him gone, and then the alarm went off. Miss Parker had streaked by him screaming, "Hurry up, Syd! Your science project escaped!" He could still hear her yelling for the sweeper team to start searching, "He couldn’t have gotten very far. He’s on foot!"
He had never suspected that Jarod had been gone for well over 6 hours, and searching for him at that point was an exercise in futility. He tried to tell Miss Parker that Jarod had probably caught a ride from someone and was long gone, but she ranted at him that this time she was going to kill him. The look in Miss Parker’s cat like eyes still gave Sydney goosebumps. After the search was called off, Miss Parker left growling that she would be in early the next day, but she didn’t show up.
"Earth to Sydney," Jarod frowned.
"Sorry. My mind must have wandered. I’ve been doing that a lot lately," Sydney lied.
Jarod nodded as he pulled up to the guard booth. The guard smiled as he waved them in.
Sydney waited until they had pulled into a parking space before he spoke. His voice was thick, "After Moira returned to the Centre that night, she pulled out all the stops to find you. She sent out every available man she had to search the grounds. She was relentless. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she was sure there was no sign of you. She put on quite a performance. Even Raines was convinced that you had help from someone in the underground.
It was almost 3 in the morning when Miss Parker called off the search. She went home shortly after that. She said she would be in early to start searching again, but she never showed up. You should have seen Broots trying to cover for her. He kept telling Mr. Parker that she was in the restroom."
"Where did you find her?" Jarod asked seeing the sorrow in Sydney’s face.
"We got lucky. Broots was poking around her desk, and came across her planner. In it was the name of a Doctor in New York. We searched the internet with the doctor’s name. Miss Parker had an appointment with an infertility specialist. I assumed she would be back the next day, but there was no sign of her."
"How long was she missing before you finally decided to go looking for her?" Jarod asked angrily.
"Three days."
"Three days? You waited three days to start looking for her. Unfucking believable, Sydney."
"I went to Mr. Parker. I told him she hadn’t been in since the night you disappeared. He assured me that she was probably sunning herself on the Cayman Islands, but I knew he was lying. Miss Parker didn’t believe in vacations where all one did was lie around on a beach. Broots and I went to her house. People who go on vacations usually take luggage. Miss Parker’s bags were in her closet- empty. On a hunch, Broots checked all of the hotels surrounding the clinic. He came up with the Waldorf. We found her that night..." Sydney said swallowing hard. He still couldn’t get the picture of Moira out of his mind. She was lying on the floor dying from an overdose of cocaine.
"And..." Jarod asked impatiently.
"We were lucky we found her when we did. She had taken an overdose of cocaine laced with angel dust. She was in a deep coma for a week and a half. Mr. Parker was going to stop life support, but she started to improve. After she came home, she started to see me professionally. I can’t tell you anything more. I hope you understand, Jarod."
Jarod swallowed hard trying to hold back the anguish that threatened to cripple him. His voice was thick when he spoke, "Do you think she’ll be alright, Sydney? Did I do the right thing by bringing her here?"
Sydney frowned, "You love her very much. I think it’s your love that has seen her through the darkness, and I think it will help her through this."
"I just hope I can save her from this monster, Syd. She’s been through so much, and now this. I don’t think I can take much more. God help me! I can’t go through losing her again," Jarod said choking on his grief. She wasn’t gone yet, but the sense of foreboding he had felt when he was in the waiting room kept nagging at him.
Sydney sighed, "We’ll protect her, Jarod. I’m not going to let Raines win this time. I don’t care if I have to kill Kyle myself; no one is going to lift a finger against Moira. Not this time."
Jarod nodded grimly as the two men walked up the entrance steps leading into the main wing of the hospital.
**********************************************************************************************
He stood in the doorway watching her sleep. She was having a nightmare, and by the way her legs kept twitching, he could tell it was a doozy. Occassionally, the silence was disrupted by her cries as the nightmare continued. She was remembering. She was remembering, and that was a bad thing. It was a bad thing to remember. Remembering made you feel bad, and right know, he couldn’t feel any worse.
"You missed," a voice hissed at him.
"I’m sorry, Dr. Billy. I won’t miss again. I won’t ever miss again," a voice that had been young once repeated firmly, "I will never miss again, Mr. Raines."
Watching her sleep excited him. He felt himself falling into her dreams imagining the look of absolute terror as she realized it was him coming back from the dead to take her down that long dark tunnel where he would have her to himself. No one could take her away from him then. No one would save her; not even the Pretender would come to her rescue. No, the Pretender wouldn’t come- at least not in time to stop him from getting the truth. He would get it this time, and then he would finish it once and for all. He wouldn’t miss this time.
There were footsteps in the hallway. "Damn," he muttered before he turned to leave. Through the security window he saw the Pretender and the doctor with the funny accent, the one he tried to cover, coming towards the entrance door. He slipped into the hallway disappearing around the corner towards the back stairway hearing the doctor murmuring softly, and then the voice of the other Pretender replied.
"You have no idea who you’re dealing with. He’ll kill her."
He froze on the stairway when another voice came to him, a voice he had heard in dreams-only they weren’t dreams. It had been real, and he was here following the Pretender like a love sick hound.
"This man has killed before, Dr. Vestes. He’ll kill again, and he’ll kill Moira if we don’t get her to safety."
His heart began pounding in his chest. The Pretender was angry. He could hear the edge in his voice. It was the voice he heard in dreams when he remembered the house of the Dragon, the place he used to go with Dr. Billy-only that wasn’t the name of the house. He couldn’t remember things anymore, but he remembered standing in front of the Pretender staring at him eye to eye holding him in the sights of his Centre issued gun. I decide who lives or dies... Not this time! The words echoed in the stairway as he ran down them afraid his curiousity would win out causing him to linger too long, and he would be discovered, and then he would never get what he wanted.
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"I’m not going to say this again, Vestes. The man we’re looking for is dangerous. He’s killed at least one woman that we know of. I have to get my wife out of here tonight," Jarod growled.
"As I said before, Mr. Beaudette, your wife is safe here. No one can get by the security station without proper clearance, and all of our employees have been cleared, so there is no need to worry that someone is going to walk in here and murder your wife," Vestes said angrily.
"You really have know idea who you’re dealing with, do you?" Jarod snarled, "He can be anything he wants to be. He can go anywhere without being noticed. He’s spent a lifetime being inconspicuous, and you expect me to believe that you can protect her when you don’t even know how easy it would be for him to walk in posing as an orderly, a nurse, or a doctor. He could be right under your nose and you wouldn’t know it."
Vestes threw his hands up, "If I let you see her, would you be satisfied that she will be safe here?"
"It’s a start," Jarod nodded attempting to keep from throwing the younger doctor against the wall slamming him until he grew some common sense.
Vestes reached into his pocket withdrawing a set of keys. He opened the door to the maximum security ward, and allowed Jarod and Sydney into the corridor. As they rounded the corner, Vestes stopped. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it the same way his grandmother could tell if someone in the family was going to die. He glanced at Mrs. Beaudette’s room. The door was open part-way allowing the light from the hallway to filter through. He had closed it. He could have sworn he closed before he left for rounds, and now it was open.
Jarod sensed the doctor’s misgivings. He smelled his fear. He touched Dr. Vestes’ shoulder, and the image of him locking the door to Moira’s room jumped out at him. Jarod gasped audibly when he saw what drew the doctor’s attention. The door to Moira’s room was open. He had been there. Jarod tasted the cold hard fear in his mouth as he made a run for her room. He had to see her. He had to make sure she was all right.
Vestes moved nimbly aside powerless to stop him, "Mr. Beaudette, please. She’s asleep. Please don’t tell her what’s going on. I don’t want her any more frightened than she all ready is."
Jarod nodded before disappearing behind the door closing it quietly before running towards his sleeping wife. She lay tangled in the bed clothes as she moved her legs running from something only she could see. Jarod pulled up a chair beside her bed and watched her helplessly as she continued to cry out. He had once tried to wake her from her nightmares only to find himself on the other end of a gun. She used to keep it under her pillow in case...in case...someone from the Centre came for her. Lately, the night terrors were getting worse.
Sydney told him that the night terrors and the nightmares were memories that were struggling to resurface. How many times had Jarod had dreams that he could have sworn were too bizarre even for the Centre only to find out they were long forgotten memories; memories that had been erased? Jarod was lucky. He had been able to escape the constant brainwashing, but Moira had no choice. Everytime she saw him, he had to reawaken the feelings they shared for each other. She had to rediscover him over and over again.
Jarod sighed watching Moira sleep. His mind began to wonder. He found himself remembering how hard it had been hard at first to overcome the anger, the accusations Moira flung at him whenever she caught up to him. He would patiently explain, conjole, and finally he would see her eyes flicker. The cold anger was replaced with love mixed with sorrow. Moira was always sad. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they couldn’t stay together, and that the night they would spend together would be erased from her memory once she returned to the Centre.
"They have ways of making you forget," she had told him several times.
"What ways? Tell me," he asked, but she could never gave him an answer.
He had known the answer. They did the same thing to him. The only memories of his mother were of her hanging the laundry. It had been sunny and warm. He had been standing in front of her helping as she ruffled his hair.
"Hi, Jarod," she had said.
The last time he saw her was in Boston thirty years later. He almost got to talk to her...almost got to touch her, and then they were on him and Moira had yelled out warning him the sweeper team had taken position behind them. And, then his parents and sister were gone.
What had they done to him, to Moira? How did they manage to wipe away all his childhood memories? How did they wipe away Moira’s? It was as if someone had pulled down a black curtain hiding them from each other- hiding them from the truth. The little gifts, the taunting, and the personal notes were his way of trying to lift the curtain. She had to know the truth. She had to know she wasn’t alone. There was someone out there who cared about her deeply. There was someone out there who would risk everything for her.
He had almost given up on trying to raise the curtain. It took too much out of him to keep opening that curtain of lies the Centre had fed her. What hurt the most was seeing the torment she went through everytime he pulled the curtain away. She was always confused, and then one day the curtain had disappeared leaving her raw like an open wound.
He was in Phoenix, it was hot, and he was hungry. He figured he’d just take a walk to a Circle K to get something to eat. He was dying to try another one of those chili-dogs. His mouth began to water at the thought of it. He was on Central Ave and Thomas when a car drove by him slowly. He heard someone call out, "Hey, you!"
He turned seeing the gun, and then he heard a pop, and then he was falling. He had watched the car drive away feeling his lungs begin to fill up with blood. He was going to die, and all he could think of was that he never got a chance to say what needed to be said. He never told Moira he loved her. Suddenly, the street lit up, and he felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher, and she was there calling his name.
"Jarod...! Don’t you dare die on me! Don’t you dare leave me! I won’t let you...I won’t let you."
When he woke three days later, he looked for her. He kept asking the nurses where she was. Finally, one of the nurses spoke to him. Her voice was soft and kind.
"What woman? You were alone when the ambulance brought you in."
"She was with me," he kept insisting, "She has shoulder length auburn hair and blue eyes. She was with me when they brought me in. She was telling me to hold on. She told me not to leave her."
The nurse shook her head, "No, Mr. Doe. I think you’re mistaken. You were alone when they found you."
When he was well enough to leave, Jarod called Sydney. He was nervous when he heard Sydney’s voice.
"Sydney here."
Jarod sighed. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where to begin.
"Jarod, is that you? What’s wrong?"
"I was shot, Syd. That’s what’s wrong."
"Jarod, you must come home. You can’t spend another minute on the outside. It’s too dangerous for you there," Sydney said firmly.
Jarod heard the concern in the older man’s voice, "Yeah, well..it’s not exactly safe at the Centre either. Where’s Miss Parker? I need to talk to her."
"She called in sick today. Her ulcer’s really acting up. She may need surgery."
"She doesn’t need surgery. She needs to stop smoking," Jarod snapped. The pain in his side made him edgy. He was in no mood for Sydney’s games. He wanted to speak to Miss Parker. He needed to hear her voice. He needed to know she was alright.
"What Miss Parker needs is for you to stop sending her those irritating little ‘gifts,’ Jarod. Why can’t you leave her mother out of this? You know how upset she gets, and yet you continue to antagonize her. No wonder why she wants to kill you."
"What I choose to send or not send is my business, Syd! You can’t cover for Raines anymore. She has to know who she’s dealing with," Jarod said hanging up the phone angry. His side had begun to throb painfully forcing Jarod to sit on the couch.
He took a deep breath trying to rid himself of the rage that kept trying to erupt. When he was satisfied that he was calm, he picked up the phone. She answered on the first ring.
"What?"
"Good to hear from you too, Moira," Jarod said smiling.
"How’ve you been, Boy-wonder? Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. How’s your side?"
"My side?" Jarod asked confused.
"Isn’t that where you were shot?"
"How..." Jarod began.
"Never mind...I’ll explain later. I’ll meet you at the usual spot."
"You remember...What brought that on?" Jarod asked.
"I remember enough. I remember what I said to you when we were children. Do you?"
"You said you loved me, and then I asked you to marry me."
"You were 6, and I was 4. I think I said yes," she said sighing.
"What made you think of that?"
"I was clearing out the attic, and I found my wooden keepsake box. I found the ring you gave me. I couldn’t believe Mom kept it after all these years. I thought I had lost it, but she kept it for me."
Jarod wound the phone cord around his fingers remembering their childhood promise. He had found a ring in one of the sim labs. It was on the floor underneath one of the computer desks. The glint of the metal caught his eye, and he picked it up thinking it was just a piece of metal from one of the computers, but it was a ring, a small child-sized ring made of gold with an emerald stone set in the middle of it. He had hid it in his sock for safe keeping. The ring made him think of something special; something worth holding onto. The person who lost it must have missed it terribly. He was going to give it to Sydney, but something about the ring stopped him. The ring was meant for someone you loved. It was a keepsake, and he was going to give it to Miss Parker. Girls liked things like that, and he knew Miss Parker would like it.
"I remember when I gave it to you. You were waiting for your mother in the lounge. You looked so lost sitting there by yourself."
"My mother told me not to talk to anyone," Miss Parker said softly.
"You spoke to me. You taught me how to play hide and seek, and then I asked you to marry me," Jarod said thickly.
"Daddy was furious when he caught us. I got a spanking for that, but he never knew about the ring, and then one day it was gone. I must have looked for it forever. I had Mrs. Perch, our housekeeper, check everywhere, but it was no use. I thought Daddy found out about the ring, and threw it out."
Jarod inhaled sharply wincing at the sudden pain in his side, "What did I ever do to him? I was a scared and lonely little boy. You were just as scared as I was. All I wanted was a friend. He wouldn’t even give me that."
"Yeah, well, Daddy wasn’t exactly Mr. Rogers, and the Centre wasn’t his neighborhood if you know what I mean."
"Mr. Rogers? What neighborhood, Moira?" Jarod asked in confusion.
"Nevermind...I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you were never allowed to watch TV," Miss Parker sighed.
Jarod heard the frustration in her voice, "Run away with me."
There was a long silence before Jarod heard Moira take a ragged breath.
"We’ll talk about it. I’ll see you tomorrow, " She said thickly.
"Moira, wait!" Jarod yelled, but she was gone leaving him sitting alone in his motel room. He was tired, he hurt, and he missed Moira. She made him feel as though he were a part of something instead of an outsider. He didn’t have to explain. She would fold herself in his arms hiding herself away from the Centre and anything remotely connected with it.
The next morning, he met her at their usual spot. He picked it out himself, and spent his time off from his missions fixing it up. He had called it his Oasis in the desert, but Miss Parker thought the name was too corny. She called it "The Retreat in the Sands." Now, the big Spanish styled villa was called "The Sands." It had once been a Hotel and Saloon that claimed to be the last place Billy the Kidd robbed before he was allegedly killed. It was a legend, but the people of Nowhere, Arizona believed it, and the Hotel remained until it was purchased by a wealthy family who turned out to be train robbers. They turned the venerable Hotel into a brothel until one of the customers tried to burn the Hotel to the ground, but even the fire couldn’t destroy the stone and wood structure.
When Jarod finally stumbled upon it, the hotel was a home for the "Spirit Winds." Ernie Two Feathers, the indian guide he had become friends with in Albuquerque, told him that the "Spirit Winds" looked after the true and the just. Jarod didn’t hold too much stock in the Indian myths, but the first time he brought Moira to the newly reverbished villa, he saw her face light up. He was expecting her to hate it. He expected her to beg him to take her to a Holiday Inn or a Best Western, but she walked into the immense foyer and inhaled deeply.
"Can you smell that? Can you smell the air. It’s so clean, so pure. It’s full of hope. We’re home, Jarod. We’ve finally come home."
She had thrown her arms around him laughing. Even now he could hear her laughter. He missed it. Jarod vowed silently they would return to the Sands. Moira would be happy there. She belonged there. After this new nightmare was over, Jarod would take Moira to the Sands where the Spirit Winds would watch over her.
The sound of Moira’s voice woke Jarod from his memories. . She was mumbling. He couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, and then she sat bolt upright in bed screaming.
"He’s killing...He’s killing...he’s killing us to kill you...he’s..."
Jarod pulled her into his arms. She sobbed silently into his shoulder. He felt her body heave as she cried. She opened her eyes staring into his face before she pulled him closer to her burying herself against him.
In that brief moment when Jarod looked into Moira’s eyes, he saw them. He saw the women staring out at him begging him to help.
"He’s killing them to kill me...He’s killing...he’s killing..."
Jarod breathed deeply trying to remain calm. Her fears had become his now, and he had to fight to control them before they paralyzed him. When Moira had fallen back to sleep, Jarod hugged her tightly before tucking her in. He kissed her forehead wishing he could stay with her. He held back a sob as he quietly got up. In the doorway, he gave her one last lingering gaze vowing softly that he would protect her even if it meant becoming what he feared the most.
"Don’t tell Mom and Dad what I’ve become."
Jarod kept hearing his brother’s words in his head. He gripped his chest as he sobbed loudly. He had found his brother. Kyle was a link to his family, and now he had become a crazed killer. Raines’ science experiment was a raging success. He had finally succeeded in making the perfect weapon, and now it was up to him to put an end to the killing. "Even dead, the bastard still found a way to ruin everything he touched," Jarod thought bitterly..
It was inevitable now. He was going to search Kyle out. He had no choice. He had to stop him. Jarod stood in the doorway watching Moira sleep. He had to finish it this time. He had to put an end to Kyle’s murderous reign of terror the only way he knew how. He had to become the killer. He had to take on his feelings, his emotions, and then he would be able to track him, and then he would end it once and for all.
Sydney got up when he saw Jarod emmerge from Moira’s room, "How is she?"
"She’s having the nightmares again," Jarod said meeting Sydney’s worried gaze.
Sydney frowned, "She’s remembering."
Jarod looked into Sydney eyes trying to read the feeling behind them sensing Sydeny’s fear and uneasiness, "What is it that she’s remembering, Sydney? What really went on in SL-27?"
Sydney shook his head, "Some things are better off not being remembered, Jarod. Some things are better left in the past."
Jarod opened his mouth to answer when Dr. Vestes came running from his office, "We have a problem. There’s been a breach in security. It seems we hired a new orderly a couple of days ago. We were waiting for his paperwork to come through. He assured us he was on the up and up, but I just received his file."
Jarod snatched the file out of Vestes’ hands, and opened it quickly scanning it, "He’s using the name Billy Trader..."
"Does that name mean anything to you, Jarod?" Sydney began.
Jarod continued to read the file ignoring Sydney’s question, "It says here he’s worked at several other psychiatric hospitals. Did you bother to check them, Dr. Vestes?"
"We just got the paperwork back. They don’t exist. All of the references are fake as well," Vestes said nervously.
Sydney sighed, "Raines taught him well."
Jarod looked up slowly from the file, "I could say the same of you, Syd, or have you forgotten what you trained me to be?"
"That’s not fair, Jarod. I only wanted you live up to your full potential," Sydney said patiently.
Jarod stiffened. He felt himself grow hot with anger. He fought to control the sarcasm that threatened to surface when he spoke, "Are we ever going to know the truth, Syd? Are we ever going to know once and for all what you people did to us? Jesus Christ, Sydney! Moira and I have had whole chunks of our childhoods’ erased from our memories. Was that helping me to live up to my full potential? Was it helping Moira to live up to hers? Why can’t you just for once give us the whole truth instead of the half truthes you keep tormenting us with?"
Sydney started to tremble. He opened his mouth to say something in response to Jarod’s outburst, but he couldn’t seem to form the words. How could he tell him that everything he did was done out of his need to protect the two people who mattered most to him aside from Jacob and Catherine. Finally, Sydney looked up at Jarod’s face. He saw the sorrow that he had helped to cause. In his attempt to protect Jarod, he had betrayed him.
"Please, Jarod. I know you’re angry. God knows, you have every reason to be, but what I did was out of love. You said it yourself. I was always trying to shield you from the dangers at the Centre."
Jarod shook his head, "What did you do to us, Sydney? What kinds of atrocities did you commit to get us to forget our pasts? Was it in the food? Did you poison us? Was that it, Sydney? Please, just give me that much."
Sydney looked at Dr. Vestes for a long moment before he began, "I think Dr. Vestes knows my technique, don’t you, Dr. Vestes."
Dr. Vestes looked at the floor, "I’ve read everything you’ve ever written on the subject of ‘The Blank Slate Phenomenon.’ I can’t say I’m an admirer of it, but I see its usefullness in certain instances, but using it on otherwise healthy children as a means of controlling them is despicable, Dr. Green. I don’t know how you can call yourself a Psychiatrist with a clear conscience."
"I assure you, Dr. Vestes, my conscience is far from clear," Sydney said thickly. He was about to go on. He wanted explain, but before he could say anything he heard Jarod gasp. He looked at Jarod and saw anger mixed with anguish, "Jarod...?"
"What is he talking about? What is this "Blank Slate Phenomenon?" Jarod asked attempting to keep his voice steady.
Dr. Vestes looked at Sydney before speaking, "There are different ways of creating Blank Slates. One is to create alternate memories and simply brainwash the individual to accept the alternate memories instead of the real memories. Another way, which is something the Centre was fond of using, was replacing unwanted memories with traumatic experiences designed to poison the individual’s mind against someone or some thing. I think Dr. Raines did this with Moira. He had her brutally raped and beaten, and when she was vulnerable, he convinced her that her attacker was someone hired by someone she loved and was to supposed to love her."
Jarod felt his knees almost buckle. He felt himself grow sick, "Why didn’t you do something, Sydney? How could you let this happen? Why?"
"I tried to tell her the truth. I tried to undo the damage Raines had caused, but he used more than mind control and brainwashing. He...He.." Sydney struggled, "He got Moira hooked on pain. He taught her to worship it. He taught her the only way to achieve power was to control pain. He tried the same thing with Maya, and then he finally perfected it on Kyle."
Jarod leaned up against the wall to keep himself from falling. An image of Moira came to him. She had been washing one of the windows in her mother’s house preparing to show it to a realtor when she slipped off the ladder. She smashed one of the windows as she fell. He had been in the kitchen repairing one of the cabinets when he heard the sound of breaking glass and a loud thud of something falling.
She was just sitting on the floor trying to brush the broken glass off herself when he saw a dark crimson stain begin to form on the carpet. She had looked up at him, and for a moment he saw a brief look of pleasure on her face as she held her injured wrist.
"The greatest pleasure is pain...The greatest gain comes from pain..."
Jarod tried to shake the image away. He felt her pleasure as the blood continued to splatter from her torn wrist. He had stood there frozen feeling a rush of heat and desire take hold of him, and then a child’s voice shattered the stillness of the moment, and then he was helping her to the car.
Jarod? Jarod! What is it?" Sydney asked.
At once, Jarod was back leaning against the wall, "I have to get out of here. I have to end this once and for all"
Sydney shook his head, "You’re going after him? You know that’s exactly what he wants, Jarod. He wants you to chase him."
"I’m not going to sit back and let that monster kill anymore people, Sydney."
"And you think you can stop him, Jarod?" Sydney asked angrily, "You really think you can stop Kyle by yourself?"
"I have no choice. I know how he thinks. I know how to get inside his head, Sydney. Isn’t that what you trained me to do?"
"I don’t want you to do this, Jarod. I want you to let the FBI handle this. I don’t want to risk..." Sydney began.
"I can’t do that, Sydney. I have to be the one to stop him. He may listen to me. Maybe I can convince him to turn himself in..."
Sydney grabbed at Jarod’s arm, "And, what if you can’t. What if he doesn’t want to turn himself in? What will you do then? Will you kill him? Do you think you can?"
Jarod pulled away. His face contorted with rage, "If it goes that far, yes, I will kill him, Sydney. I’ll kill anyone who threatens the people I love."
Sydney and Dr. Vestes watched quietly as Jarod ran towards the back exit stairs pulling open the heavy metal door as if it were made of paper.
"I wouldn’t want to get on Jarod’s bad side, Dr. Green," Dr. Vestes said nervously.
Sydney nodded, "When it comes to Moira and the children, Jarod loses control. I shutter to think what he’ll do when he finally catches up with Kyle. I just hope whatever he does, he can live with the consequences."
**********************************************************************************************
Kyle swore as he stormed into his motel room. He grabbed his army bag from the closet and began stuffing his clothes haphazardly into it. He could sense the Pretender would be coming for him, and he didn’t want to run into him. He didn’t want to risk seeing him again. Would he kill him if he got the chance? Kyle didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out. "They could have been together, but the Pretender had to make his bed with that slut," Kyle thought angrily.
He could see her laughing at him as he struggled against her.
"You must be kidding. You call that fucking, little man. You couldn’t even screw a thimble," she had laughed.
He had lost it then. He had smacked her hard across the face making her wince, "I’ll show you. I’ll show you."
She growled at him as he forced himself against her taking her violently. She had trembled as he moved inside her, "I’ll show you, slut. You call me pathetic. Now who’s pathetic.?"
Afterwards, she lay still. Her face bore the after effects of his rage. She had needed stitches, and her arm was broken in three places. Raines had been angry.
"I said no bruises! No broken bones!"
Kyle tried to apologize, but the hard slap accross his face made him stop. There was no way to apologize, no way to make up for defying a direct order, and now Raines had to devise a cover-up.
"Go back to your cage, animal! Go back and think about what you’ve done."
He wanted to ask where they were taking her. He wanted to know if she was going to live. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she kept on laughing at him. He wanted the truth. He wanted to know where his parents were, but she kept laughing at him. He could still see the crazed look in her eyes, and when he pinned her on the bed, her eyes had glazed over. She was retreating into herself, but he wouldn’t allow it. He slapped her hard pulling her back, and then she began to fight hard gasping. He enjoyed her feelings of helplessness as she fought against the restraints that held her trapped. He saw himself through her eyes.
Remembering her terror still caused that familiar heat, but there was no time for that. The Pretender was coming. Time was running out. He had a second chance now, and he was damned if he was going to let that "goody two shoes" Pretender stop him from getting what he needed. He would get the truth this time. She would tell him this time, or he would kill her just as he had killed the others.
The van died on the Garden State Parkway. Kyle cursed as he got out. He cursed himself for not getting a new one. He had the money. It wasn’t as if he was broke. He still had the money he stole from the Centre’s Swiss bank accounts. It’s a wonder what you could do with a French accent and a three piece Armanti suit. He had walked right into the bank as if he owned it. He waited for a bank teller to become available, and very calmly handed the woman a deposit slip with Mr. Parker’s signature, a signature that he had mastered, and she gave him a briefcase full of money.
The first time he dipped into the till was exciting. What if he got caught? Would they risk killing him? Would they even know it was missing? or Would they blame it on the Pretender? He didn’t care. He enjoyed the smell of the money as he rolled in it on the bed of his posh hotel room. He was so young then, and so naive. He still believed he could forget who he was. He actually thought he could lead a normal life. He almost did. He had come so close to settling down to raise his own batch of pretenders, but at the last moment, the woman he had wanted to spend his life with turned out to be another one of Raines’ creations sent to chart his progress.
Kyle cursed louder when he thought of Maya. She was so much like him. She could be anything to anyone. Perhaps, this is what drew him to her. She may have looked exactly like her sister, but that’s where the similiarities ended. They had had fun together tramping around from place to place making love everywhere, especially in public places. She loved the thrill of being seen. He loved seeing himself through her eyes. It was the first time he ever experienced wonder and awe. She had loved him, or at least she led him to believe she did, and then she betrayed him turning him in like some prize possession.
They had been running one of their cons out in Vegas. Maya had gotten a job as a cocktail waitress, and he was working at the BlackJack table. He was to point out the "live" ones, so Maya could attach herself to them, and then she would get them to give her a key to their room. When she was ready to go, she would adjust her hair pulling it away from her face. He would give her an hour, and then he would follow.
It was an easy grift. The poor SOB was so scared that his wife would find out about his indiscression that he would willingly give them anything they asked for. Kyle didn’t think this grift would be any different, but he had been wrong, dead wrong.
He put the key into the lock slamming the door open ready to start growling at the man who was sleeping with his wife when they were on him. He fought them off calling Maya’s name trying to warn her, and then he saw her. She was just standing there staring at him. Her face and hands were covered in blood, and then he saw her smile, "I got my heart, Kyle. You wanna see?"
His last sight of Maya before the darkness took him was her standing over him laughing handing him the heart she had deftly cut from the man’s chest.
When he finally woke, Raines was there waiting for him telling him how his beloved Maya had planned this from the start.
"You can’t trust women. They’ll tear your heart out and stomp on it."
Kyle felt his hatred towards Maya take hold, and vowed he would get his revenge, "I feel it in my heart. I feel the hate in my heart."
It was a few months later when he was finally able to exact his revenge. He had taken the "Ice Queen." He thought it was Maya at first. He had called out to her, and she stiffened turning. Her eyes grew dark as she minced up to him staring him in the eyes.
"My name is Miss Parker, Rat-boy, and don’t you dare forget it," She said slapping him hard across the face.
He had backed away realizing his mistake, and ran into one of Raines’ men who grabbed him hand-cuffing his hands behind his back.
"Get this freak back to his cell. I never want to see him out again," Miss Parker snarled angrily.
As he was led away, he caught her watching him. She wanted him, and this made her angry that she would be attracted to a freak. Her anger excited him, and in the darkness of his room, he imagined himself on top her, and she struggling against him begging him to stop. Raines had come in later. He heard the hiss from the oxygen tank as Raines struggled to breath.
"I have a job for you, Kyle," he hissed softly.
"I’m through working for you old man."
"You’ll like this job," Raines hissed again.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Follow me. I’ll show you."
Kyle followed the old man through the maze of rooms in SL-27. He could feel his heart beating with excitement as they got to the sim room. Raines went in removing a set of keys from his pocket. There behind one of the desks on the wall was a door leading into another room. Raines opened it. Kyle looked inside. There was a bed, and on the bed was the Parker woman who had called him a freak. She was strapped to the bed, and when he entered, she started to struggle.
"No bruises on the face. Anywhere else is fair game. You have 2 hours, and then we’ll come for her," Raines hissed slamming the door behind him as he left.
Kyle stood watching her. She was breathing heavy from her efforts to break free. She was frightened. She knew he was there, but couldn’t see him through the darkness. He went over to her putting his hand on her leg feeling her stiffen. He smiled as he continued further up her leg until her came to her thigh. She gasped as he explored her with his fingers feeling her grow wet under his touch. She swore through the gag as he climbed on top of her forcing his erection against her humping her in fury as she writhed underneath him choking on her ineffective screams.
"You promise to behave if I take the gag off," he said as he started playing with her breasts.
She nodded quietly as he began removing it.
"You called that fucking, little man! You’re pathetic," she snarled angrily.
Kyle slapped her hard accross her face splitting her lip. She spit back at him hissing in rage, and then Kyle forgot what Raines had told him.
When he was done, she lay quiet. Her face was a mass of bruises, and her arm was bent at an odd angle. Raines would be mad. He would punish him for sure.
After he was taken back to his cell, Kyle waited until the guards were gone. He stood up on the bed and unlatched the airconditioning vent. He wasn’t going to wait around for Raines to come back this time. This time he would rather die than go through another one of Raines’ treatments.
The sound of an approaching car caught Kyle’s attention. He stood watching the car as it began to slow down. He waited until it stopped before venturing up to the window.
"Howdy, son," the driver said smiling.
"Hi," Kyle responded shyly.
"You have car trouble?"
"Yeah, my van died a couple of miles back."
The driver nodded, "It looks like it’s fixin’ to rain. Why don’t you climb in. I can take you into town. At least you can get a good night’s rest, and then you can have your van towed."
Kyle looked at the car and back at the road. He had no idea where he was, and the prospect of being stuck in the rain didn’t appeal to him, but taking a ride from a stranger made Kyle nervous. What if it was someone working for the Centre? What if they followed him? Was it really worth it?
"Come on, son, I ain’t going to bite you. I’m harmless. It’s my wife you have to worry about. She’ll mother you to death," the driver said laughing.
Kyle nodded smiling, "That’s very kind of you, Sir."
The driver smiled, "Please, my father was Sir. My name’s Roy Hutchinson. My friends call me Hutch."
Kyle got into the car admiring the velor seats, "Okay, Hutch."
"What’s your name, son?"
Kyle turned to Hutch smiling, "My name is Jarod, Jarod Beaudette."
Hutch extended his hand, "Nice to to meet you Jarod Beaudette."
"Likewise," Kyle smiled pleased at his deception.
********************************************************************************************
The motel manager was leary about giving Jarod the key to Kyle’s room, but in the end the manager grudgingly handed it over.
"If you see Trader, tell him I’m still waiting for the room rent," the manager said before returning to his newspaper.
Jarod reached into his pocket pulling out his wallet, "How much does he owe?"
"Huh?"
Jarod tossed a fifty on the counter, "Here, keep the change. I have a feeling you’ll be needing it."
The manager looked up to respond, but Jarod was gone. He retrieved the bill from the counter putting it in the till. Afterwards, he marked Billy Trader’s bill paid in full.
********************************************************************************************
Jarod slowed listening for sounds coming from within the motel room. The door was open, and the light shown through the openning. When he was satisfied that the room was empty, Jarod slowly entered the room cautiously half afraid that Kyle would come out of the bathroom poised and ready to kill. Jarod hoped there was still a chance to talk his younger brother into turning himself in.
He gagged at the horrendous smell that assaulted him as he drew closer to the bedroom area. "Jesus Christ, Kyle!" Jarod muttered eyeing the collection of pizza boxes that was almost as high as the dresser. "Something must have died in here," Jarod said pulling his shirt collar up around his mouth and nose.
The bed clothes were tangled, and the dresser draws hung half open. Kyle had been in a hurry to leave, and Jarod knew from experience people in a hurry often forgot things. They were carelesss, and Kyle was no different. Jarod let his eyes linger around the room taking in the feelings and emotions of it.
"You’re scared and alone. You’re afraid of what you’ve become. You can’t control it anymore. You..."
There was something in one of the drawers. Something Kyle missed. Jarod reached in pulling out a scarf, and then an image came to him. He saw his brother with a red haired woman. The scarf he was holding was the same one she was wearing. She was laughing. Her voice was low and sultry- almost teasing;-almost the way Moira used to be before she got sick.
"Come here, big boy. Mama’s going to take good care of you."
"I bet you will."
There was more laughter, and then a shrill scream as Kyle advanced holding a hunting knife against her throat telling her that if she cooperated, she would live. If she didn’t, she would die.
"I decide who lives or dies. I decide...I decide...I decide who lives or dies."
Jarod held his hands over his ears trying to shut out the woman’s screams as Kyle plunged the knife into her over and over again. The scarf...the scarf.. He used the scarf to wipe off the knife when he was done, and...
Jarod felt himself collapse heavily against the bed falling to the floor. He went to get up, and as he placed his hand on the sticky carpet, he brushed against something. He knew what it was. He knew what he had smelled when he first came into the room, and now he found himself staring at the dead face of the woman he saw in the vision. She was brutally shoved aside hidden under the coverlet underneathe the bed, and then the room began to spin.
He was leaning against the dresser when the door slammed open. Jarod covered his eyes against the sudden intrusion of light.
"Hold it right there, Pal," an angry voice from the doorway growled.
Jarod looked at his reflection in the mirror, and saw himself covered in the murdered woman’s blood holding the knife, the knife Kyle had stolen from him while he was camping with Jamie at Bear Mountain, "Officer, I can explain."
"Come on out, son. Come on out where I can see you, and don’t make any sudden moves."
Jarod put his hands up, and walked towards the doorway where the police officer grabbed him throwing him up against the door jamb hand-cuffing Jarod’s hands behind his back, "Save it for someone who gives a crap."
Please, Officer. If I can just explain, you’ll realize this is all a big mix-up. I’m not the man you’re looking for. My name is Jarod Beaudette, and I’m looking for my brother, Kyle Beaudette. He’s the man you’re after."
"Look, Pal, I don’t give a shit who you are. Right now, you’re the one whose wearing the evidence, so why don’t we get to the station. You can call your lawyer, or your priest because the way I see it is that you’re going away for capital murder here."
Jarod’s mouth went dry, "I want to speak to my lawyer."
"Of course you do, pal. You’ll have plenty of time when we get to the station. Now get in the car."
Jarod watched morosely as they pulled away from the curb. Sydney had been right. The authorities should have been called. Kyle knew Jarod would come for him. Kyle knew because he had the same gift. He felt Jarod’s desparate feeling of terror knowing that a madman was on the loose, and Moira was in his sights, and Jarod would be powerless to stop him. Who would protect Moira now?
From the depths of his mind, Jarod heard the familiar sound of laughter. It was evil and full of malice, "I may be dead, but I’ll never be forgotten."
Jarod gasped remembering the reocurring dream that had plagued him ever since he had gotten back from Nevada. Raines had been alive, and he was laughing. He was holding Moira as she struggled, and then Jarod saw a flash of something metal slashing at Moira’s exposed throat, and then he saw her fall lifeless to the ground. Jarod let out a low moan as he started to weep. In the dream, he had been powerless. He had taken her in his arms watching the woman he loved leave him as he heard the wailing of the ambulance as it came closer-so close, but never close enough.
**********************************************************************************************
LYNNWOOD PSYCH
LYNNWOOD, CT
The night had grown silent. The soft whispers of the doctors and nurses had disappeared leaving Moira restless. What had roused her? She had been sleeping, and then Jarod was there talking to her stroking her hair, and then he was gone. She heard Sydney call out to him to be careful. "Be careful of what?" Moira wondered, and then the dream of the women staring at her begging her to avenge them came back to her.
He’s killing them to kill me...
Moira shivered. She clutched the blanket trying to get warm, but she couldn’t seem to stop trembling. Something bad was going to happen. Suddenly, Moira sat bolt upright in bed. An image of Jarod came to her. He was covered in blood. He was being led away by someone in hand-cuffs, and he was weeping softly. Moira saw Jarod’s tear streaked face, and caught her reflection in his eyes. Raines was there holding her, and then she was struggling to get away, and then there was the pain as the knife slashed at her throat, and then there was the stillness, the stillness when the next moment was death. Screaming; someone was screaming, and then there was a scrambling of footsteps in the hallway, a key fitting in the lock, and Sydney’s voice full of worry in the distance.
"Moira? Moira, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. No one’s going to hurt you."
In his arms, Moira sobbed soundlessly knowing it would not be okay, and it would not be okay for a long time. Something bad was happening, and there was nothing that neither Jarod, Sydney, or Dr. Vestes could do to prevent it.
Sydney waited until Moira was asleep before he rose stifly feeling his knees rebel as he walked towards the door. Sydney tapped lightly on it signalling that he wanted to be let out. Vestes opened it quickly stepping aside allowing the older man to exit.
"Your friend, Jarod, called. It seems he’s been arrested," Vestes said quietly.
"Arrested? What for? Did he say?" Sydney asked.
"I think he killed someone, Dr. Green. I could barely make out what he was saying. There was so much noise in the background."
Sydney glared angrily at the young doctor, "Jarod couldn’t kill anyone!"
"How could you be so sure? How could you say he couldn’t? You saw how he was before he left. You saw the look in that man’s eyes when he was leaving. He was enraged. You even said so yourself, so how could you say that Jarod couldn’t kill anyone?"
"I can say it because I’ve known that man for over 30 years, and I have never once saw him lift a finger against anyone regardless of how much they may have deserved it," Sydney said attempting to keep his voice even, but inside he was scared. Had Jarod finally stepped over the line? Had he suddenly lost control, and in a fit of blind rage killed his own brother? Sydney turned away from Vestes’ intense stare, "Jarod would never kill anybody."
"Well, he said you’d know what to do. Meanwhile, we can’t let Mrs. Beaudette know what’s going on. This could truly destroy her," Dr. Vestes said quietly.
Sydney took a deep breath attempting to regain his composure. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach had returned leaving him nauseous, "Make sure there’s a guard posted outside her door. I have to make a few phone calls."
"It’s already done, Dr. Green. No one will be able to get into Mrs. Beaudette’s room without going through me first."
"The guard is to keep Mrs. Beaudette in. When she learns, and she will learn, that Jarod has been arrested, she will stop at nothing to help him even if it means resorting to violence," Sydney said frowning.
He had witnessed first hand what Moira could do if provoked. They had just come back from Catherine’s funeral. Mr. Parker had left Moira to amuse herself while he worked. Moira was weepy and sat outside her father’s office trying not to cry. His heart went out to the little girl who wasn’t even allowed to cry for her own mother. Sydney was about to go to her when the door to her father’s office opened. She got up wiping the tears from her face in an attempt to hide her grief, but her red eyes gave her away.
Raines had exited first almost knocking Moira over. He looked at her coldly, "You’ll be working with me, Miss Parker."
Moira had looked up at him, and then at her father, "I want to work with Sydney."
Mr. Parker frowned, "Sydney’s very busy with Jarod. Now, be a good girl, and go with Dr. Billy to his office.
Moira started to cry quietly as Raines led her to the elevator, "Daddy, please!"
Mr. Parker went back into his office slamming the door behind him. Sydney silently cursed him as he joined Moira and Raines in the elevator. Moira was crying loudly then, and Raines was getting angrier and angrier by the minute. Finally, he reached out and slapped Moira hard across the face. Sydney pulled Moira away from the other doctor trying to protect her, but Raines caught hold of Moira’s arm almost wrenching it from its socket. Moira screamed in pain as she cradled her injured arm, and then the elevator stopped abruptly causing Raines to pitch forward falling against the elevator doors. They opened suddenly causing Raines to fall out of the elevator, and the doors closed on him. He screamed as the doors continued to close suffocating him. Moira stood rigid watching, and then the doors opened sending Raines into the hallway. The doors closed quickly, and then the elevator was descending, and Moira looked up into Sydney’s eyes smiling, "I guess he wanted to take the stairs."
Sydney shook himself from the memory, but he kept hearing the iciness in Moira’s voice. She had caused the elevator to stop. She had caused the doors to open and close, and she had propelled Raines from the elevator leaving him with a concussion from where he had hit the wall. He still remembered the look in her ice blue eyes. There was a smoldering rage in them, a rage that had been allowed out, and when she turned to him smiling, Sydney saw the rage recede sated for now; it had found its victim.
Sydney looked at Dr. Vestes and shook his head, "You have no idea what she’s capable of. I doubt she even knows herself."
"I can take care of Mrs. Beaudette, Dr. Green. I am a trained Psychiatrist," Vestes said angrily.
"I’m not going to get into a pissing war with you, Sylvan. You think you can handle Moira Beaudette, and you will be successfull at first. She’ll lull you into thinking she’s in your control, and then wham-she’ll come up behind you and before you even realize what’s happening you’re view on life has changed dramatically."
"I can handle her, Dr. Green," Vestes repeated firmly staring at the older man’s face.
Sydney returned the younger man’s stare. He was looking at a dead man, a walking dead man, "Just keep out of her way should she get passed the guard, Sylvan. Maybe if you keep out of her way, she’ll go easy on you."
Vestes was about to respond when Sydney turned and walked away. The discussion was over, but Green’s warnings had left questions; lots of questions, and Vestes felt he deserved answers. He was going to get them too. He would make sure of it.
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LYNNWOOD COUNTY CORRECTIONAL FACILITY
LYNNWOOD, CT
Jarod sat hunched over on the only available cot. His chest and side still throbbed from his run in with Deputy Smithers, who hated his job, and seemed content to show it every chance he got. Jarod had been on the phone trying to get a hold of Sydney when Smithers yelled, "Time’s up!"
Jarod turned away from the irate deputy attempting to hear what Vestes was saying when Smithers grabbed the phone out of his hands slamming Jarod in the chest and side with his billyclub.
"When I say time’s up, time is up, buster!"
Jarod had accepted the deputy’s sour demeanor. He didn’t want to start trouble, but Smithers wasn’t satisfied with one swing. He swung at him again missing as Jarod came up around him grabbing the deputy’s arm twisting it behind his back.
"You like being the one in control, Smithers. You enjoy seeing the pain and humiliation you cause. Now, the shoe’s on the other foot, isn’t, Smithers? How does it feel being the one in pain? How does it feel to be humiliated? Huh?"
"Let go of me, Beaudette! I swear I’ll kill you like you killed that woman," Smithers’ said through clenched teeth.
Jarod slammed Smithers againt the wall before he let go leaving the deputy struggling to catch himself before falling to the floor.
"Alright, son," the Sheriff from the motel said calmly as he helped Jarod back into his cell.
"That man is dangerous," Smithers growled getting up slowly.
"All the more reason not to provoke him, Timmy," Sheriff Jeffers said looking into Jarod’s angry face, "I’m sorry, son. Timmy gets a little bit carried away. He won’t do it again, will you Timmy?"
Jarod heard the deputy sigh, "I won’t do it again, Sheriff Jeffers, I promise."
On their way out Jarod caught Smithers watching him. He knew that if he didn’t get out of here soon, Deputy Smithers would forget his promise to Sheriff Jeffers, and return to make good on his threat. Sitting in the dark cell, Jarod couldn’t stop thinking. He kept running through different scenarios and outcomes. What if Sydney couldn’t help him? What if they couldn’t prove his innocence? What if he was convicted? What then? Jarod knew the answer to that. There were several innocent men and women sitting on death row waiting to die, and now he was going to join them if Sydney couldn’t help him.
"Someone had to die."
A cold chill went through Jarod as he thought of Moira. She was alone, it was night, and Kyle was out there somewhere...Someone had to die... It was inevitable now. Kyle was too far gone to turn back.
Don’t tell Mom and Dad what I’ve become
Jarod winced at the memory of Kyle’s last words, and the violent explosion that had supposedly taken his brother’s life. "I would have done anything for you, Kyle. I would have risked it all for you, and now look at what you’ve become ," Jarod thought wearily. He was tired, but sleep was no comfort. In his dreams, Jarod saw Moira. She was looking up at him. She was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear her, and then he saw she was sitting in a pool of red-colored water, and he began to scream knowing that the red tinged water was Moira’s blood, and what she was trying to say to him was that she was sorry, and he didn’t know why she was sorry because she was the one who was dying, and he was standing there watching her die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The lights came on in the hallway. The cell block door opened, "Hey, you okay in there?"
Jarod covered his eyes with his arm trying to hide the tears that continued to streak down his face, "No. I’m not okay. Do I sound like I’m okay?"
"You need anything in there son?"
Jarod took a deep breath letting it out slowly, "Yeah, I need to get out of here."
"Well, your friend, Dr. Green’s working on it.’
Jarod choked back a sob swallowing quickly, "Tell him to hurry. My wife is in danger."
"I know, son. I know."
Jarod heard the cell door close, and then he was alone again trying to fight off the cold fear that held him in its icy grip. Even the heavy wool prison blanket couldn’t keep the cold out, and the only sound he could hear was the maddening sound of his chattering teeth as he felt the cold seep into his heart turning him to ice.
**********************************************************************************************
LYNNWOOD PSYCHIATRIC
LYNNWOOD, CT
He was calling her. She could hear him calling her name. Moira rubbed her eyes sleepily. Jarod needed her. She had to go to him. She closed her eyes letting herself drift out into the void that was the darkness. She drifted over the hospital grounds seeing the heavily guarded entrance wondering why a psychiatric clinic needed to be heavily guarded. Moira let the matter drop when she caught sight of a car leaving the hospital parking lot. It was Sydney’s, and by the way he was driving, he was in a hurry.
Moira followed him as he drove at break-neck speed through the streets of Lynnwood. He was anxious. He needed to do something-no he needed to make phone calls; phone calls to people Jarod helped. Moira paused as she watched Sydney enter his motel room. Why would Sydney call these people at such an odd hour of the night? Why was he so anxious?
Jarod called out to her again. Moira turned away from Sydney’s motel following Jarod’s voice. He kept saying something she couldn’t make out. He was fading. Moira tried to focus harder on his voice, but something kept interferring. She fought against it trying to hear Jarod’s voice over the static, but she was being pulled in the opposite direction. She was being pulled back towards the motel; the motel Sydney had driven passed on the way to his motel. There were police cars everywhere. One of the rooms was roped off with yellow police tape, and there was so much talking.
Moira drew closer ignoring the police tape. She watched as the crime people collected their evidence.
He did her in here, and then washed up in the bathroom...Didn’t they catch him still covered in the victim’s blood?..Must have left something...Guy must have balls made of steel to return so soon after the crime...I sure hope they fry the mother-fucker...Such language coming from such a pretty mouth...Can it Marty...
Moira couldn’t pull herself away from the scene playing out before her. She couldn’t think straight. Her mind was a jumble of grotesque images. Moira willed herself to focus. She saw herself as a child looking into a glass vortex. Sydney was telling her to focus. She almost saw it, and then her mother was there closing the curtain obscuring her view. She had run then scared, but now Moira pushed herself beyond the fear. She had to know. She had to see what the cops could not, and then she felt the familiar slipping as she saw beyond the glass vortex. She saw it all then. She saw the knife as it found its mark over and over again, and then the killer pulling back allowing Moira to see the face of the woman he killed. He smiled enjoying the look of terror in her eyes as she realized the face she was looking at was her own, and the man standing before her was the man from her nightmares.
"I want to hear you scream!!! I want to hear it echoe from the walls. You hear me, Girl? I want to hear you scream."
And, then Moira woke gasping. Jarod was in trouble. He was out there doing the only thing he had been trained to do, and if she didn’t do something, the Jarod she loved would disappear leaving a blood crazed killer in his place, and then the memory that Moira couldn’t quite grasp came crashing into her like a huge tidal wave.
"You’re Daddy’s good little girl, aren’t you?"
"Yes, " the little girl said choking back a sob.
"You love me, don’t you?"
The little girl wiped her tear streaked face with the back of her hand, "Yes."
"You want to make me happy, don’t you?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Then, you’ll go down the steps to the basement," the man said firmly.
The little girl let out a sob of anguish, "No, Daddy. Please, don’t make me. I’m scared. Please, Daddy, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be good. I promise."
The man grabbed the sobbing child by the shoulders twisting her around so that she faced the stairway, "Don’t you ever disobey me, Moiranda Parker. You get down those stairs, and wait for me in the basement!"
"No! I will not. Mommy says I don’t have to. I’m not going, and you can’t make me," the little girl said trying to pull away from the man’s grasp instead losing her grip on the wooden plank that served as a makeshift railing, and then she was falling head first down the cement steps splitting the right side of her head open. There was a quiet stillness as she lay staring upwards seeing not her father or her twin sister howling in anguish, but a light, a small, blue light. She followed it floating with it until there was just her and the void and the freedom, and then she was back feeling strong arms scooping her up, and somewhere in the distance, she heard the wailing of a siren, and then she was in her room playing with her new toys, and her sister, her twin, was gone as if she never existed..
"Where did they take you, Maya?" Moira asked quietly waiting for Maya to answer, but there was only silence. Maya was gone, and Moira was then alone knowing that Jarod was out there beyond the glass vortex, and she needed to find him; she needed to warn him. She closed her eyes willing herselfback through the black curtain. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had to focus. Someone was calling her. She knew that voice. It beckoned her to come. Join me Moirranda. Join us! Her eyes flew open in fear. The memory hung just out of reach. "Why am I so scared?" She took a deep breath letting it out slowly. She had to focus.
Moira closed her eyes reaching out for the familiar darkness feeling it take hold. There before her was the doorway, the doorway that was always locked. It was the doorway to the edge of the darkness and beyond it was the glass vortex. She had unlocked the doorway once a long time ago when she was a child and was shown things, horrible things, and then the door swung shut leaving her terrified and confused unable to sort out what she had just been shown. Sydney had been intrigued by what she saw. He wanted her to go back. He wanted her show him what she saw.
"Focus, Moira. What do you see?"
"It’s dark, Sydney. I’m scared."
"Focus, Moira. Tell me what you see."
"I can’t, Sydney. I’m scared."
"I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you."
"Promise."
"I promise."
Sydney never got the chance to keep his promise. Just as she was about to reopen the door, her mother barged into Sydney’s office slamming the door shut before Moira could catch a glimpse of what was behind it. Sydney never asked her back to his office after that, and then her mother was dead, and the doorway on the edge of the darkness remained locked until now. Moira was ready to open it She only hoped she could before it was too late.
"Are you sure you want to?"
"Maya? I thought you left me," Moira said in relief feeling her lonliness dwindle as her twin sister joined her in her thoughts.
"I had something to do, but I’m back now."
Moira breathed a sigh of relief, "Where do you go when you’re not with me?"
"I go where I’m needed, and right now I am needed here."
"You didn’t push me down those stairs, did you, Maya?" Moira said softly.
"I don’t want to talk about that, Moira."
"We have to talk about this, Maya. I have to know. What did Daddy do to us in the basement?"
Moira heard Maya sniffle, and then the bed side lamp flew across the room shattering against the wall.
"Maya! What did Daddy do?"
The window, that had been bolted down, slammed open and close in a frenzy. Moira heard a loud keening followed by a scream of anguish mixed with rage, and then there was a deafening silence.
"Maya?" Moira began.
Moira felt something brush against her face. She turned her head seeing her sister sitting in the alcove by the window. Her face was red from crying.
"Remember, we used to sit together by the window waiting for Daddy to come home."
Moira saw an image of herself sitting with Maya. They were both giggling, "He used to bring us gifts from the places he’d visit on business."
"Yes," Maya nodded, "He was a good man. He loved us all very much."
"Good men don’t beat their wives," Moira said angrily.
Maya sighed, "He wasn’t always bad. He was a good father to us before he..."
"Before he went on that business trip to St. Croix. I remember him bringing us back those strange dolls..." Moira said remembering the argument her mother and father had over giving "dolls" like that to children.
"Remember what Momma said?"
Moira started to sob, "She told him to take them out of the house. She told him that no child of hers would play with something like that, and then he hit her."
"You know why Momma wouldn’t let us play with those dolls, don’t you, Moira?"
"Yes. She wouldn’t let us even look at them. They were so creepy why would anyone want to?"
"She burned them. She waited until Daddy left for work, and then she burned them. I helped her. It was so strange. I felt like I was burning myself with the way those dolls looked like us and all."
Moira shook her head, "That still doesn’t explain what changed him. How could burning a doll cause a man to change into a brutal wife beater? It doesn’t make sense."
"It wasn’t the dolls that turned him. It was the voice that made him do the things he did. He tried to fight it, but it was too powerfull."
"Daddy heard voices?" Moira said sarcastically.
"I didn’t say voices, Moira. I said voice, as in singular. And, then he started doing things to us..."
An image of her father came to her. Moira tried to push it away. She was strapped to a table, and he was standing over her, and...
"It’s okay, Moira. He did it to me too. He wanted to make us scream. He wanted to hear it echoe off the walls."
Moira inhaled sharply feeling herself grow rigid with anger. She got up from the bed joining her sister by the alcove. The hatred she felt for her father was almost blinding. She looked out towards the heavily guarded entrance counting the guards. The first thing she would do when she got out of Lynnwood would be to pay her father a visit. She would ask him about the day she fell down the stairs. She would ask him what he did to her and Maya in the basement. She knew the answers to the questions, but she wanted to him say it. She wanted him to confess before she..."
"Moira, no!"
"After what he did to us, to our Mother? How could you defend him, Maya?"
"This thing, this presence, wants you to destroy Daddy. That’s how it feeds. It casts doubts, it poisons minds, and then it sits back watching its host destroy itself by destroying everything that it loves. If you kill our father, you would be giving it what it wants."
"He hurt us, Maya. I can’t forget that..."
"I’m not asking you to forget, Moira. I’m asking you to forgive. Forgiveness and love is all that we have to fight with."
Moira started to cry, "I can’t, Maya. I can’t forgive him..."
"You have to. You have to for the sake of your children, your husband..."
"And, what if I can’t, Maya?"
Maya turned. She was starting to fade, "I have to go. I’ll come back."
"Maya, wait! Where are you going?" Moira cried, but she was gone leaving Moira angry, confused and alone, "Damn you, Daddy. Damn you to Hell," Moira said softly feeling herself become angry, and then someone was coming.
There were footsteps in the hall, and then the door to her room opened. Moira watched wearily as Beverly Wilkins accompanied by Dr. Vestes entered the room.
"Where’s Jarod?" Moira asked.
"What are you doing up, honey?" Beverly asked as she edged closer to her.
Moira was about to answer when she caught sight of Vestes inching his way closer to her. He had something in his hand. He was trying to hide it, but Moira saw the needle of the syringe reflected in the light, "Don’t come any closer."
"Come on, Mrs. Beaudette, we’re only trying to help. You want us to help you, don’t you?" Beverly Wilkins said seizing hold of Moira’s arm.
"What are you doing? Where’s my husband?" Moira demanded trying to pull away, but Beverly blocked her with her weight pinning Moira down as Vestes carefully inserted the syringe into her arm pushing the plunger, and then they were making her walk.
They half carried and half dragged her with them. Moira tried to focus, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Where were they taking her? Where was Jarod? Why wasn’t Sydney there to stop them? An image came to her. Sydney was on the phone. He was calling someone...He was calling Her. He was talking to the woman who had once been her mother’s only friend at the Centre, the friend who knew of her mother’s plans to rescue the children. She said she would help, but Audra Woodmar had no intention of helping anyone except, of course, herself.
And, then they were putting her into a van. She was too exhausted to fight even when they began strapping her down into one of the seats. Moira wanted to scream out. They couldn’t do this to her. They couldn’t just take her away like this. Moira tried to struggle against the straps, but found her body refused to obey. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t force her mouth to form the words that were now trapped inside her mind. She felt the van begin to move, and silently Moira did they only thing she could think of doing. She called out to Jarod begging him to help her, and then the drug induced sleep took her.
*******************************************************************************************
Sydney picked up the phone as he thumbed through an old worn-out address book. He had been on the phone most of the evening apologizing to people for calling at such a late hour, but he had to get as many people as he could to testify on Jarod’s behalf. He had crossed off over a dozen names thus far, and now there was one more person Sydney had to call. He found the number, but trembled at the thought of having to dial it much less talk to the person on the other end.
Her name was Audra Woodmar, and she was the best damn defense attorney Sydney had the misfortune of meeting. She was employed by the Centre at one point, and had been the one who orchestrated the deal between Mr. Parker and the Feds. She was also Sydney’s ex-lover. Sydney shuddered over the thought of calling her. He would rather put his head in a bear trap than talk to Audra.
She answered on the first ring, "Hello, Sydney. How good of you to call."
"How did you..."Sydney asked.
"Haven’t you seen the news, Syd? Your boy, Jarod, is on every channel. Poor dear. He couldn’t hurt a fly, and now he’s deteriorated into this..."
"Jarod did not kill that woman, Audra. He was framed, and you know it!"
"I know he was found covered in the victim’s blood. He was also holding the murder weapon, which, incidently had his initials engraved on the handle. No doubt a gift from the Ice Queen."
Sydney sighed, "It’s all circumstantial. Jarod could never kill anyone much less a woman."
"People change, Syd. Maybe the "ultimate pretender" has turned postal, or maybe the Ice Queen finally cut him loose."
"Moira is sick, Audra. She’s not the same woman you knew from corporate," Sydney began.
"Save it for someone who gives a shit, Syd. I’ll defend the freak only because I hate to see someone get a bum rap, but don’t ask me to feel sorry for the Parker Bitch! She deserves everything she gets."
"Alright, Audra. Just get Jarod out. That’s all I want."
"Is that all you want, Syd? Isn’t there more?"
"Audra, please. This is not the time for the past. Just do this for Jarod!" Sydney said in exasperation.
"Alright, Syd, but afterwards you and I are going to sit down have a real heart to heart."
"Yeah, whatever you say, Audra," Sydney said before hanging up the phone, "Whatever you say."
**********************************************************************************************
Audra Woodmar watched silently as she played back the news footage of Jarod being led away from the motel. He had turned towards the camera looking directly into it. There was a familiar sadness in his eyes, a sadness that Audra had seen before when she first met Sydney and his prize specimen, Jarod. Sydney had been so proud of the child. He had the boy demonstrate for her what he could do. Sydney had asked him to become her, and he did. Seeing the little boy’s face suddenly turn into a mask of hers nearly frightened Audra to death. Did the child know how she detested Sydney’s work with the Centre? Did he suspect that she was trying unsuccessfully to get Sydney to quit.
"Don’t you see, Audra? I can’t quit. There’s so much at stake now. I have Jarod to think of."
In the end, Sydney’s work won out, and Audra left, but the image of the little boy continued to plague her, and now seeing the deep sorrow in Jarod’s face made Audra wince in pain. Jarod wasn’t a killer. Sydney was right about that. Jarod was too kind, too full of empathy to take the life of another human being.
"True pretenders were kind and moral because they can feel and experience the pain of others,"Sydney had once told her, but that didn’t begin to explain Maya and Kyle, or the other freaks imprisoned at the Centre. What about them? They were pretenders. They were failed pretenders; they were the ones you never heard about. They were the ones locked in the lower sublevels destined to die without ever seeing the outside world except for the dark one. He had escaped only to be caught in New York where he had attacked and brutally murdered two young nurses.
It was Audra’s job to defend him. It was her obligation as the Centre’s attorney to make sure they got him back, and Audra had taken the case happily. She was young then; young and ambitious, and this was her way to prove that she could get even the most heinous criminal off, and she did. And he had repaid her by hiding in her office until she got back from lunch one day. Audra could still feel him against her; his hot breath on the back of her neck...
"...Scream, bitch! Scream real loud. I want to hear it echoe. I want to hear it echoe off the walls."
Audra pushed the memory away as she focused her attention on the notebook computer that lay open in front of her. She had work to do if she was going to clear Jarod of wrong doing. The evidence, of course, was completely circumstantial, but tell that to the grand jury. Looking at Jarod’s hooded eyes, Audra hoped his charm would win them over just as it did her when he was a boy.
*********************************************************************************************
SOMEWHERE IN PENNSYLVANIA
The Sun felt good on his face as Kyle stiffly stepped out of the car. It felt good to stretch after being on the road all night. He looked around for any signs of where they were. They were at a 7-Eleven, somewhere in Pennsylvania. Kyle had lost track of all of the nameless towns they had driven through. He was too busy listening to Hutch chatter on and on about the Lord, and how everyone was going to be saved.
"Would the Lord save him?" Kyle mused, "Would he be granted entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven?"
Kyle laughed doubting anybody could save him. He was too far gone, but he didn’t have the heart to tell the old man he was beyond saving, and besides wheels were better than heels.
Kyle stretched again feeling the familiar pang of hunger. He hadn’t eaten since he had left Lynnwood. He started walking towards the entrance to the convenience store when he saw her. He caught the downward slope of her small upturned breasts as she was bending over to retrieve something she had dropped on the ground. She stood up revealing colt like legs and beautiful long red hair that hung in folds down her back. Kyle adjusted his dark sun-glasses telling himself he would get a piece of that before the day was through.
Hutch smiled as Kyle sidled up to the counter. He was drinking a large coffee as he chatted erroneously with the sales clerk. Kyle wasn’t listening. He was thinking about the red-head. He was thinking about what he wanted to do to her when the door opened revealing two state troopers. Kyle turned away quickly hiding his face.
"Morning, Boys," Hutch said amicably.
The older trooper smiled, "Morning."
The younger trooper didn’t smile. He just stood there looking at the counter when the older trooper turned to him.
"Alright, Walt. You might as well get them. You’re not going to stop torturing yourself until you have at least one box of Cracker Jacks."
The younger trooper smiled sheepishly snatching the box of caramel covered popcorn from the counter.
Kyle watched in silent fascination as Walt ate them hungrily.
"Well, we best be going," the older trooper said clapping Walt on the back.
Walt nodded before giving the store clerk the thumbs up sign.
Kyle breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them drive off, and then Hutch was talking to him.
"Hey, Jarod? You ready to go?"
Kyle turned, "Thanks, Hutch, but I think I better see to my van. Someone might steal it or something."
"Okay. Let me know if I can help you with anything," Hutch said smiling in relief. There was something wrong with that boy, Jarod, if his name was Jarod. Hutch didn’t think so. He couldn’t help but notice the wallet crammed full of ID’s when Jarod paid for his breakfast.
"Thanks. I’ll remember that," Kyle said smiling.
Hutch smiled back as he walked towards his car. He smiled at the young red-head as she was pumping gas into her VW bug. "She was a pretty little thing," Hutch thought. He hoped she was careful about who she went with. You never could tell who was who these days.
**********************************************************************************************
Kyle waited until Hutch drove off before he walked outside. He put his dark sun-glasses back on and walked over to the girl who was now searching through her purse.
"Damn!," she muttered, "I knew I had a twenty this morning."
"Can I help you?" Kyle asked softly.
She jumped startled, "You scared me!"
"I’m sorry," Kyle said smiling.
"I just have to pay for my gas, and I think I lost my money..."
Kyle stepped lithely towards her, and in one fluid motion pushed her into the bug jumping in after her silencing her with a sharp blow across her face, and then they were cruising the back roads of Helltown.
"You promise to behave cause I can make this very unpleasant; very unpleasant," he said as he pushed her up against the car tugging her short shorts off.
She pleaded with him with her eyes as he inserted his fingers into her, and then he unzipped his fly allowing his pent up erection out. "You’re going to like this, Bitch," he said as he pushed himself viciously inside her as she screamed in pain and terror. "Come on, you fucking bitch. Come on, I want to hear you scream. Come on, scream, you fucking bitch! Finally, exhausted, he pushed her back into the car and drove until he came to a place where there was a ditch on the side of the road. He slowed the bug to a crawl, opened the passenger door, and threw her out driving away without looking to see where she landed.
Where was he? Kyle massaged his head waiting for the searing pain in his head to lessen. The headaches were getting worse, and now he couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here. The last thing he remembered was asking the young woman if she needed help, and then he woke up here with a wicked headache. Unsteadily, he got out of the VW Bug and vomited gripping the door of the VW trying to keep from falling. Everything seemed to spin out of control, and then he looked down at his shirt. It was streaked with blood. Kyle glanced inside the car seeing the torn and bloody shorts the girl had been wearing when he first saw her at the convenience store. He saw it then. He caught an image of himself and the girl. She was screaming and he was hurting her. He was hurting her just like he had hurt the others. He was killing them...he was killing them...he was killing...
Kyle turned gasping. His body trembled from the sudden movement, and then he started running, but he couldn’t outrun his thoughts. They kept getting all jumbled up throwing him off balance making him appear drunk as he ran, and then out of the jumbled chaos came the familiar voice that drowned out all of the other voices. It calmed him. It gave him focus. It told him what to do, and how to do it. It told him to listen to it, and only it, and Kyle listened and knew what he had to do. Kyle nodded as he turned back towards the VW Bug. He opened the passenger side door removing the soiled garments from the seat as well as removing his own blood soaked shirt. He climbed over the guard rail walking towards a heavily wooded area where he dropped the clothing on the ground. He removed a match from the book of matches he had in his pocket and lit it. He watched as the clothes burned, and when there was nothing left but ashes, he buried them in the dirt.
The voice told him it never happened. It kept reassuring Kyle as he continued to drive telling him that the VW Bug was a friend’s. He was borrowing it from a friend. Kyle accepted that as he drove quietly towards Delaware. "He would be safe in Delaware," the voice told him. He would be safe at the Centre. No one would find him there, and he could prepare; he could prepare for the Pretender. This time there would be no mistake,-no surprizes, and then afterwards, he would be free. He would be free...
**********************************************************************************************
LYNNWOOD CORRECTIONAL FACILITY
LYNNWOOD, CT
Audra Woodmar ignored the excited taunts and lust filled stares of the convicts as she was escorted to the visitors’ room. Audra looked at all of the other prisoners talking to family members or friends through phones separated by plexi-glass. Other than the small booths, the room was sparsely decorated. The walls were dark green, and in some parts the paint was starting to chip away revealing yet another coat of dark green paint. It was always the same. Nothing ever changed; same colors, same desparation, and the same fear that had caused Audra to give up Criminal law in favor of family law.
And, now after all those years of trying to forget, Audra was back where she started, and she silently damned Sydney for it. He knew what happened. He knew the reasons behind her early retirement. It had taken her 5 years to recover from what that animal had done to her. Audra couldn’t bring herself to think of his name.
"How does it feel, Audra, knowing you’re defending a true psychopath. That’s what you’re fancy doctors call me, don’t they? I’m a real fucked up individual, aren’t I?"
Audra gasped trying to focus on the here and now. "Focus," Audra told herself, "Jarod’s innocent. He’s not like him. He’s not going to hurt you."
"I’ll hurt you, lady. Don’t think I won’t. You defend me. You get me off, and I swear, I’ll make you scream. I’ll make you scream until it echoes off the walls."
Audra sighed heavily feeling a sob form in her throat. She had no choice. She had to defend him. She had to get him off, and she did. Anything less than that would have been her own undoing. He had belonged to the Centre, and she was young and stupid thinking she could make a name for herself defending him. She could still feel his hot breath on her neck as he sliced away at her clothing burying himself deep inside her before the Centre’s gards were able to break down the office door. Afterwards, the Tower had summoned her buying her silence promising her more money for her services, and she had been young and the money was more than what she could have ever earned if she had gone into private practice or worse yet; if she was hired on as low man on the totem pole at one of those big law firms famous for swallowing up young, ambitious attorneys. Yes, she had sold herself to the highest bidder, and now she was paying for it.
"Mrs. Woodmar?"
Audra turned focussing on the young man sitting accross from her. He still had a child like innocence about him, "Jarod, I’m so sorry..."
Jarod forced himself to smile. He placed his hand against the plexi-glass window urging Audra to do the same, "It’s been a long time."
Audra cautiously placed her hand up against Jarods sighing, "What happened?"
"I didn’t kill that woman, Mrs. Woodmar, " Jarod said looking into Audra’s eyes trying to gage her response. Did she believe him?
Audra nodded, "I know, but I think you know who did, Jarod."
Jarod’s face fell. He looked away trying to push back the tears. He swallowed hard, "I have to stop him. I have to save her."
"Stop who? Save who? Tell me, Jarod. What’s going on here?"
"Kyle is alive, Mrs. Woodmar. He’s alive, and he’s going to kill again. I have to stop him," Jarod said quietly.
Audra took a deep breath seeing the wide-eyed innocent look disappear from Jarod’s eyes replaced with a look of weariness and despair.
"Kyle is dead, Jarod. He was burned to death in the explosion. You saw it yourself."
"He’s alive, Audra. He’s alive, and he has to be stopped."
"Do you have proof of this? How can you be so sure?" Audra asked in confusion.
"They didn’t find any remains..."
"The fire burned for three days, Jarod. Of course, they wouldn’t have found anything..."
Jarod shook his head, "Even with the intense heat, there would have been teeth. They would have found teeth, but they didn’t. He’s out there, Audra. He’s out there, and he’s afraid. He can’t control it anymore. He’s afraid of what he’s become. He’s afraid of what he’s going to do."
"And, you think you can stop him, Jarod. You think you can save the world, right all the wrongs, avenge the unavenged, but you can’t, Jarod. You can’t save everyone..."
"I couldn’t save you," Jarod said staring directly into Audra’s eyes.
"What?"
"You still think about it, don’t you? You can still feel his hot breath on the back of your neck even after all these years. You were afraid to come here. You were afraid it was true."
"What are you talking about, Jarod? What happened to me is over and done with..."
"Is it? You should have let him fry, Audra. You had the power. You could have stopped him," Jarod said thickly.
Audra looked down at her hand seeing the small scar from where he had cut her, "I had no choice. He was my client. I had to defend him."
"No, Audra, you had a choice, but you wanted to prove to the world what a great defense attorney you were, and in the end, what did it get you?"
"Nothing," Audra mumbled not meeting Jarod’s intense stare, "Absolutely nothing."
Jarod frowned shaking his head. He took his hand off the plexi-glass window and began drumming his fingers against the desk, "That’s not quite true, is it, Audra? You got paid very well for your services..."
"Jarod, please! I don’t see how this has anything to do with your situation. I came here to help you. I didn’t come here to dredge up the past. God knows, I’ve done enough of it myself."
Jarod got up throwing the chair back as he stood. He glared at Audra angrily, "How much did they pay you to hide the truth about my parents?"
Audra gasped loudly, "How...?"
"You thought I’d never find out. You thought I wouldn’t remember. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the black sedans pulling up beside us blocking us in, and then the hands grabbing at me pulling me out of my mother’s arms. She was screaming. Even now, I can still hear her screaming, "My baby, don’t take my baby."
Audra started to sob. She couldn’t look at Jarod’s tear streaked face. It was true she had sold out. She had allowed herself to be seduced that these children that she helped to hide were somehow better off away from their parents. Someone had once told her that the children needed to be taken if only to live up to their full potential.
"I’m so sorry, Jarod," Audra said through her tears.
Jarod swallowed hard, "Is that all you can say is you’re sorry? You helped those monsters hide dozens of children, and all you can say is you’re sorry. No wonder why Moira always hated you. I never knew why until I started remembering things about my past; my childhood. You know, I never had one. Living at the Centre does not a happy childhood make."
"Why are you doing this to me? I came here to help you. I am your last hope if you ever want to get out of this place, and this is how you treat me," Audra began angrily.
Jarod laughed mirthlessly, "You are not my last hope, lady. And, as far as me getting out of here, I’m already out. This morning they found the body of a young woman in a roadside ditch cast away like a sack of trash, so I guess I’m not the killer."
"Why did you call me?"
"Do you ever wonder what happened to the other children, Audra? Do you ever wonder what became of them?"
"What do you want from me, Jarod. I said I was sorry. Isn’t that enough? What’s done is done."
"They killed them, Audra. They killed them in the corridor leading to the underground tunnel. Mrs. Parker and Jacob were trying to get them to safety, but someone notified the Tower of their plans, and then the children were shot to death as they ran. I can still hear their screams, Audra. I can still hear their cries for help. Tell me, Audra. How does it feel knowing that you caused the death of innocent children?"
"I didn’t know they were going to kill them. I would never have said anything, but..."
"There’s no excuse for what you did. I only hope you can live with yourself," Jarod said before motioning to the gard, "I’m done with my attorney."
The gard opened the door to the visitors’ room allowing Jarod to exit, and then he turned towards Audra, "Counselor Woodmar, I’m supposed to bring you to the District Attorney’s office. He needs to ask you some questions."
Jarod smiled as watched as Audra was led away. He had to admit, it felt good to pretend again, but the familiar rush that often accompanied the sting was fleeting at best. There was still Kyle. He was still out there, and the young girl found dead in the ditch was still dead, and Moira was still in danger, and he had to get to her. He could feel something was wrong, and Jarod couldn’t seem to move fast enough to the rental car. He reached the parking lot at a dead run. His heart hammered in his chest as he climbed into the car. His hands trembled as he inserted the key into the Intrigue’s ignition. He stepped on the gas and tore through the parking lot forgetting where he had just come from until he saw the red and blue lights of the patrol car in his rearview mirror.
His first impulse was to stop, but something made him speed up, and then he was darting in and out the line of traffic proving his driving skills were far superior to the cops who struggled to keep up with him. He wasn’t Jarod Beaudette anymore. He was Jarod Andretti, race car driver, and he would be damned if he was going to let some black and white slow him down. In a flash he was back. Someone had called out to him. It was Moira. Her voice was muffled and distant, but he heard her, and then he was speeding through the parking lot ignoring the line of police cars that trailed behind him. Moira needed him, and he begged her to hang on because he was coming.
The guard opened the gate as Jarod approached, and then Jarod slammed on the brakes skidding to an uncertain stop amidst the firetrucks and ambulances. Lynnwood Psychiatric or what was left of it lay in ruins. Jarod threw open the car door in a panic running even before his feet touched the ground. He screamed until he was hoarse as he ran from victim to victim looking for her hoping she was one of the ones that got out, and when he couldn’t find her among the living, he grabbed a fireman’s jacket off one of the trucks slipping it on as he ran entering the smoke filled inferno searching in silent desperation for the little girl who had once given him his first kiss.
When it was over, and the last of the victims were loaded onto the ambulances, Jarod walked among the dead, who for them, help had come too late. He pulled back the sheets on each one forcing himself to look silently glad each time to discover Moira was not among the dead. The newspaper accounts would say that forty-three people were dead while dozens more were badly injured when the hospital’s main power source somehow shortcircuited causing a chain reaction of small explosions that leveled the venerable structure. The news accounts would be proven wrong. Jarod saw what was left of one of the detanators. He had seen it as he was trying to help the other fireman recover more bodies. Everyone was accounted for; everyone except for Moira and Dr. Vestes.
"Where did you take her, Sylvan?" Jarod muttered angrily as he watched the last of the firetrucks leave, "Where did you take her."
Sydney sat down next to Jarod on the stone bench, "Jarod, we better get going. Sheriff Jeffers wants to talk to us at the station.."
Jarod sighed heavily, "I’m tired of talking, Sydney."
"Jarod, if there’s anything I can do..."
Jarod got up. He brushed the soot from his jeans. He turned frowning at Sydney, "I have one question, Sydney. Just one question."
"What is it?"
"Did you have anything to do with this?"
"Jarod! How could you even think of such a thing? I would..."
"I’m in no mood for one of your lectures, Syd. I want to know who is behind this?"
Sydney shook his head, "I wish I knew, Jarod. I want to get Moira back as much as you do..."
"The truth is going to come out, Sydney. One way or another, the truth is going to come out, and then what will you do? You can’t hide behind the Centre forever, Sydney. It’s not just black or white anymore."
"Jarod, please. This is not doing us any good. We have to stick together. We have to be strong for Moira’s sake," Sydney said getting up trying to to keep in step with the taller man, "We can’t let ourselves become divided. We are strong only when we are together."
Jarod nodded slowly, "I need you to take Jack and the kids to The Sands. Ernie will make sure they’re safe, and then we’ll talk."
"Jarod, wait! Where are you going?"
"I’m going to find my brother. He can’t control it anymore. He’s going to keep killing until he’s caught..."
"Or until you kill him," Sydney said morosely.
"If it comes to that, yes."
"If you kill him, will you be able to live with that?"
Jarod paused for a moment as he thought. He looked away trying to hide his watery eyes, "The question I ask myself is can I live with it if I don’t stop him? I think you already know the answer to that Syd. I know it too."
"Be careful, Jarod. To take another person’s life is not an easy thing. There are repercussions."
"It’s funny to hear you say that, Sydney. Do you think Kyle thought about repercussions when he murdered those women? How about Mr. Raines when he had Moira’s mother killed and then my parents?"
"One day your anger is going to be your undoing, Jarod. You have to learn to rechannel it into something more productive than this obsession with Mr. Raines. The man is dead. Why don’t you let him stay that way?"
"He may be dead, Syd, but the evil he created still lives on."
Sydney watched as Jarod disappeared into the crowd. When he was gone, Sydney took a deep breath stealing himself for the tragedy ahead. While Jarod was out setting up his big sting on Audrey, Sydney found himself bored with nothing to do, so he set out for a walk to clear his head. He did his best thinking on his walks. He had allowed his mind to wander. He thought of Jacob and Catherine, and how he missed them. He thought of Jarod and Moira and the children, and then he thought of Kyle. He missed the smiling, freckled face imp who always tried to tag along after Jarod. That was before Mr. Raines took him forever removing the impish smile replacing it with fear and uncertainty. "If only I had been stronger..."
"So many ifs, Sydney. Aren’t you growing tired of that pristine view you always seemed so fond of looking out of?"
"Jacob?" Sydney said turning.
"I was going to say ‘in the flesh,’ but we both know that’s not going to happen."
Sydney sighed, "Why, Jacob?"
"Why what, Sydney?"
"Why have you come back?"
"You have to help them, Syd. They’re lost without you. God knows I’ve tried, but its no use. She won’t listen."
"Help who? Who won’t listen? Jacob, I don’t understand..." Sydney asked in confusion.
Jacob started to fade. He turned back towards Sydney frowning, "You have to show her the way."
Sydney started to protest when he caught a glimpse of Moira as a child. She was sitting at a table, and he was standing behind her speaking to her. He was telling her to open the door, but she was scared.
"I can’t. It’s locked."
"Yes, you can, Miss Parker. You’re just scared," he insisted towering over the young girl.
The image vanished leaving Sydney gasping. He knew what Jacob was talking about. He knew instictively that whatever was behind the locked door was something he wasn’t ready to deal with, and the thought of directing Moira to open it scared him beyond reason.
"You have to help her, Sydney. She has to unlock the door, and then they will see."
"Jacob, wait! I don’t understand. Who are ‘they’ and what are they supposed to see?"
"Oh, Sydney..." Jacob said softly, "Open your eyes. Can’t you see them? Don’t you hear them crying? Don’t you know they cry because no one cries for them. They have to see. They have to know how much they were loved..."
Sydney hadn’t seen then, but sitting on the cold bench watching the rest of Lynnwood Psych burn made him see, and he started to sob. Jacob was talking about the children; the children who died in the tunnel. They were still there buried in the thick cement walls. They had renovated that year. It was after the fire in the lower levels. Mr. Parker had ordered the tunnels blocked off. He said they were dangerous. The fire had weakened the cement fixtures holding up the ceiling, but that was a lie. Mr. Parker didn’t give a rat’s ass about the safety of anyone venturing down into the tunnels. He was concerned about what was down there, so he ordered the walls to be repaired, and that’s were they would find the children trapped forever in the underground escape tunnels that connected the Centre’s Underground to the outside world.
He felt sick thinking about those children. They were loved once. They had parents who loved them, and their love had cost them their lives. There were too many people asking too many questions. Isn’t that what Raines said when he justified murdering the children’s parents to the Tower? Mr. Parker had signed the orders, and then mysteriously "accidents" started happening. When the Feds had ransacked Raines’ cluttered apartment, they found an old scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings and obituaries. "The old man was keeping track," Mulder had told him as Sydney quietly looked through the scrapbook.
"You have to help her, Sydney. It’s the only way."
Sydney swallowed hard not knowing what to do. Where did they take her? He had to find her, and then he would...He couldn’t bring himself to think of it. He made a promise to Catherine. Allowing Moira to unlock the door would violate that promise.
"She’ll understand, Sydney. Some promises are made to be broken."
"I gave her my word, Jacob! I gave her my word!"
"Please, Sydney. It’s okay."
"Catherine?" Sydney said getting to his feet. She came towards him smiling. Her voice was far away, but she was there with him.
"I am with you, Sydney. We are all with you, and we forgive you."
They were all there; Catherine, Jacob, and the children. They stood silently with tears in their eyes waiting for a chance to finally be free. He had to free them. He had to let go of his fear and let Moira do what she had been born to do. She was to open the door to the past, and he was to help her through the glass vortex, so that the children could finally at last be free.
Sydney felt the years fall away from him as he walked. In his mind, he called out loudly to his kin. They would come because he was one of them. Later they would scold, but now they would come. He could hear the rustling of their voices as the winds started to pick up.
"So, you’re finally ready to admit who you are? Tell me, Sydney, are you still ashamed of us?"
"Brice?" Sydney said watching the figure start to take shape, "I was never ashamed of you. It was me. It was always me."
"After all these years, we thought you would never come back. The way you and Jacob left, we thought for sure we lost our brothers, our friends, our fellow followers. Tell me, where is Jacob? Why hasn’t he called us?"
Sydney couldn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He allowed Brice to see into his thoughts.
"It wasn’t your fault. He made a choice, Sydney."
"I should never have taken him with me. If he had stayed with the family, he would still be alive today. It was my own damn arrogance. If only I had stopped being so thick headed and so hell bent on science instead of the truth, Jacob would be with me..."
"I won’t say that’s not true, Sydney, but what’s done is done. We forgive you. We have always forgiven you. You were our dreamer, our scientist who needed to find the answers to the questions that had no answers."
"I have the answers, Brice. I have spent a whole lifetime finding them.." Sydney said frowning.
"They weren’t the ones you were looking for."
"I thought they were until now."
"Some questions should never be answered. There is just faith and love. Those are your answers, Sydney. Hasn’t the Pretender shown you this?"
"I didn’t listen, Brice. I thought I did. I thought I knew...I thought what I was doing was serving a purpose, a higher good, but I was wrong, and by then it was too late."
"You were always so good at punishing yourself, Sydney. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?"
"I want to, Brice. I really want to come home, but I can’t. I have something that I need to do before I can return."
"You need our help."
"I don’t deserve it, but it’s been so long that I have forgotten the way."
"You’re taking a huge risk trying to navigate through the vortex."
"I have no choice. Alot of people’s lives will be destroyed if I don’t."
"The view from the vortex is distorted. You can’t trust it. Just remember when you finally get to the center, you’ll see a break in the glass. You’ll want to go through it. Don’t! It’s a trap..."
"Brice, wait! How will I know the way?"
"Let the girl show you. She’ll keep you safe."
"You mean Miss Parker?"
"She’s one of the girls from the painting. You remember. It’s the one you used to like so much."
"What painting?" Sydney began, but Brice had already disappeared leaving Sydney more confused than before. What made him look up, he didn’t know, but it was there right in front of him. He was standing in front of the Lynnwood Library. He had been there earlier, but he didn’t remember seeing a painting. It was there though. It was where it always was in the old study behind the dark purple drapes. The library was a home at one time; it was his home once a very long time ago. Earlier while he was walking amongst the stacks, Sydney felt a sense of deja vu. He had been here before, and standing in front of the library now, he knew why.
The library was closing, but Sydney didn’t care. He was home, and the painting was there. He had to see it. He had to remember it now. There was too much at stake. He rushed by the stacks leading to the backroom where he opened the old study. The drapes were still there the way he remembered, and the rope still hung there waiting for him to unveil the prize hidden behind them. He grabbed the rope and pulled the drapes aside and stood in wonder at the painting. It was as he remembered it to be. The painting was still beautiful even after hundreds of years of being hidden from sight. He was there when it was being painted. He could hear the laughter of the little girls, the painting’s subjects, as they tried to keep still. They were his daughters, and soon after the painting had been completed, his beautiful little girls burned to death in a fire while he was away.
It was after he had put them to rest that he made the decision to keep the drapes closed, but somehow knowing the painting was there made his loss worse, and finally, he left the house for good never once stopping to look back until now. Staring at the painting awakened a sorrow that had always been in his heart hidden beneath the surface. "Oh God! What had he done in the name of science? How did he fall so far? He had loved once a long time ago, and when the twins died, it was almost as if a door to his soul had closed. He had to open that door again. He had to face whatever it was behind it, and then he could be whole again, and then he could go home.
The door to the study burst open. Sydney turned angered at the intrusion. There never seemed to be enough time to reflect before reality approached breaking up the magic of memory.
"I’m glad you’re still here. I was looking everywhere for you, Sydney," Broots said quickly walking fast seeing the painting. His continuous chatter fell away to silence as he stood in dumb fascination not comprehending what he was seeing, "Who are they, Sydney?"
Sydney frowned, "They’re my family. They’re all I have left of who I used to be."
"I don’t understand. They look like...they look...I mean..." Broots began.
Sydney closed the curtains before he spoke. His voice was thick with emotion, "I don’t expect you to understand, Broots. I don’t expect you to believe what I’m going to tell you."
"Sydney, what is it?"
"You must swear on your life that this will go no further than this room, Broots."
"Why all the secrecy? Are you in trouble? Is it the Centre?"
"There are forces at work here that are far more powerful than those of the Centre. I thought I could escape them. I thought I could forget. I came to the Centre a broken man. I wasted a whole lifetime searching for answers in my work, but the work was my distraction. I didn’t want to know why God chose to lash out at me. He took my girls. They were my life, my joy, and then they were gone dying so horribly at the hands of an angry mob searching for witches where there weren’t any. When it first happened, I almost couldn’t believe it. I thought it had been some horrible mistake, but seeing those coffins and Jacob standing there broken and hollow like a ghost made it real."
"Oh my God! I think I need to sit down," Broots said as he sat on the steps leading into the study, "Those girls. The dresses they were wearing. It couldn’t be."
"I can’t expect you to understand this, but it’s true. I haven’t been human in over 200 years. I came to the Centre because I thought I could do some good. Jacob and I both did, and we did at first, and then things began to change. It was after we moved into the new building. We used to have our offices in DC, but the powers that be didn’t want a government think tank like the Centre, whose main research centered on ‘freaks,’ within a 100 yards of the Capitol. We were the uncle no one wanted to talk about, so we moved our main office to Delaware, and then things seemed to go from bad to worse."
"Those girls...they look like Miss P and Maya. I don’t understand, Sydney."
"I had almost forgotten how much Mr. Parker’s twins were so much like Millicent and Mirranda. Time blurs memory. It allows the heart to heal, to go on, and then you forget. You tell yourself you’ll never forget how beautiful they were or the sound of their laughter or what it feels like to hold them in your arms, but time and distance dulls the vibrance of the memories. It has to..."Sydney said thickly, "It has to or else you couldn’t go on."
"I think I know what you mean about time and distance and forgetting. My father died when I twelve. My mom used to say how she could feel him slipping away from her. It’s funny. I can’t remember what my dad looked like. Is that what you mean?"
Sydney turned slowly. His eyes were wet with tears. He could barely speak, "Yes."
"Does Jarod know about this?"
"No," Sydney gasped, "I am so ashamed. I should have been there. I could have saved them. They didn’t have to die."
"There was nothing you could do, Sydney. Haven’t I told you that?"
Broots turned to see a dark figure emmerge from the shadows. As the figure approached, Broots was able to distinguish that it was a young man with vibrant blue eyes. They were the same shape and color as the twins in the painting.
"Who?"
Sydney smiled quietly getting up, "Broots, this is my friend and brother in law, Ambrose Brice Jameson."
"Jameson? Isn’t that Catherine Parker’s maiden name?" Broots asked meeting Brice’s intense gaze.
"Distant relatives," Sydney explained.
Brice stepped forward appraising Broots, "You’re a friend of the Pretender. You simply must tell me about him. Can he really pass himself as anything he wants to be?"
"He’s the best," Broots said in awe of the strange being standing before him.
"Brice!" Sydney said loudly.
Brice continued to gaze intently at the computer programmer before turning away, "I’m not going to do anything, Syd."
Broots backed away feeling the weird fascination abate, "What are you?"
"I think you had better go, Brice," Sydney said attempting to shield Broots from Brice’s hypnotic prenatural stare.
Brice frowned, "You haven’t changed a bit, Syd. You’re still in love with everything mortal. Doesn’t it bother you they will die, and then where will you be?"
"Brice, I didn’t call you here to harass my friends. I need your help."
"I know what you need, Sydney. I’m well aware of my mission, but you forget what I am. I have needs, Sydney."
"You can’t have this man, Brice. He has a family. There will be repercussions," Sydney said almost in a growl.
"You wouldn’t," Brice said backing away.
"Don’t test me, Brice. Don’t ever test me."
As quickly as Brice appeared, he vanished leaving Broots bewildered still sitting in cowed silence not believing what he had just whitnessed with his own eyes. He reminded himself to cut back on the Heineken. Everything was so weird all of a sudden, and then he remembered what he came for. The manilla envelope was still tucked neatly in his jacket. Broots handed it to Sydney.
"Jarod wanted me to do some research on Dr. Vestes. I must have been searching for hours until I came across an article listed in Psychology Today."
Sydney read the article in silence. The man they knew as Dr. Sylvan Vestes was an imposter. The real Sylvan Vestes was giving a lecture in London, and wasn’t due back from London until the 25th of October. Sydney loooked at his watch. The 25th was two weeks away. He doubted Moira had that long.
"I also did a search on Lynnwood Psych. It seems that Dr. Sylvan Vestes was retired. He was a regular on the college circuit. His specialty was Regression Therapy and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. The board at Lynnwood never actually met him, but he used to correspond with many Graduate students via e-mail. He even has a web site," Broots said nervously.
"Broots, I need you to get me on the next flight going to London. I need to have a word with Dr. Vestes. He may know who is behind Moira’s disappearance," Sydney said quickly. His thoughts were racing as he started walking out towards the stacks. The lights from the street illuminated the empty library making it seem desolate. Sydney felt a slight chill as he and Broots exited the building.
"I also want you to get me everything you can from the Pretender Project files. There has to be something we’ve overlooked."
"Those files will be hard to get, Sydney. They’ve been sealed," Broots said swallowing hard.
Sydney turned, "You’re a hacker, aren’t you?"
"Well, yeah, but..."
"But nothing! I need those files. If you can’t get them, tell me now, so I can have someone else get them."
"I can get them, but it’s going to take time."
"You have 24hrs, Broots," Sydney said firmly.
"I’ll try, but..."
"No buts. Just do it. I’ll be at the Hotel. Call me when you get my flight information," Sydney said leaving.
Broots stood in awe watching the older man leave. He was walking fast; faster than any average man in his 60’s could walk, but then again, Sydney was no ordinary man. Broots didn’t know what Sydney was, but he did know Miss P.’s life was in danger, and he needed to get moving if he was going to get the Pretender Project files in the time frame Sydney had given him. "This wouldn’t be the first time he found himself under a life and death deadline," Broots thought crossly as made his way back to his rental car.
Broots had always been careful whenever he was alone on an empty street. He was always on the lookout for signs that he was being followed, but today he was busy thinking of a way to hack into the FBI’s files without them knowing it. He didn’t hear the slow approach of the black sedan that had been following him since he left the old library. He didn’t hear the driver gun the engine until it was too late, and then he was airborn never knowing what hit him. Everything seemed to slow down. It took forever to fall, and then there was the searing pain that came instantly on impact leaving him gasping tasting blood, and then there was silence and light...
Brice watched angrily from the sidewalk as the black sedan took off. He saw the driver look back at the crumpled and broken body of the Pretender’s friend before finally reving the engine again. It took everything Brice had to keep from following the sedan. Inarticulate rage surged through him. He was a friend of Sydney’s and of Jarod, the Pretender. Broots didn’t deserve to die this way alone in the street like some stray dog.
Brice knelt down next to the dying man seeing the last of the life force start to dwindle. He saw him with his daughter at the park. He was pushing her on the swings while she laughed yelling, "Daddy, push me higher. I want to go higher." Brice’s heart began to hurt as he remembered his own neices. This man could not die. Brice wouldn’t allow it even if it meant losing himself. As Broots lay bleeding, Brice became liquid flowing back into the dying man’s wounds sealing them with new alabastor skin, and then he was alive again feeling the blood surge through his veins with a force that would tear through a mortal.
"Hey, Mister? You okay?" a voice from above asked urgently.
Brice opened his eyes. He slowly got to his feet brushing off the dirt from the ground, "Hay is for horses."
"Are you sure you should be moving around like that?" the young girl asked.
Brice smiled at her reading her mind, "Shouldn’t you be getting home? You don’t want to get in trouble again."
The girl backed away suddenly afraid, but not knowing why, "How?"
"You should really go home, Lilly," Brice said kindly, "Your Mom’s really worried when you don’t come home on time. You don’t want her to worry, do you?"
Lilly didn’t answer. The adrenaline rush of fear carried her as fast as her legs could run. She couldn’t bring herself to look back for fear that he was right behind her. Only when she was inside her front yard, and putting her key into the lock did she venture a quick peak. The street was empty. She breathed a sigh of relief as she let herself inside careful to close and lock the door behind her. The small house smelled of cooking, and soon Lily forgot about the strange man who had scared her.
Brice smiled as he watched Lilly through the kitchen window. He felt bad about scaring her, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She was on her way to meet some friends when she came upon him. In that moment when he saw her staring down at him, Brice caught an image of her twisted and trapped in a burning car. He had known at once that it was his duty as a Precept, a watcher, to keep her from that fate, and now she was home eating dinner with her mother.
Sydney was right. Helping others had its own reward. Years of bitterness and blind hatred had taken their toll on Brice. He needed this mission. He needed it more than he needed the revenge that had always been there dangling in front of him like a carrot. He could still hear their screams pleading with their captors, and he being too frightened and powerless to stop them. "I’m sorry Millicent. I’m sorry Mirranda. I was a coward then, but not now. Now, I have the power to fight them."
Satisfied Lilly was safe, Brice turned his attention to the black sedan. It was long gone, but that didn’t matter. What mattered now was restoring order to the chaos. He had been away so long from his duty that Brice had strong doubts that anything he did would make a difference, but he had to try. He had come when he first heard Sydney’s call as a favor to Jacob. He had come as a means of making peace with his own guilt. He always blamed himself for Mrranda and Millicent’s death. He should have stopped them. It was his duty. He was their protector, and he had failed them, and now he would protect Moira and the Pretender. He had to restore the rightful order of the world before the coming of the new Millennium, and then he could go back then to Sydney with proof that Brice had returned to his rightful watch, and then perhaps, Sydney would give up his love affair with everything mortal and return home with him to Lassitor, a place where time held no minion, and all were young forever.
*********************************************************************************************
YARDSLEY, PA
Jarod woke gasping. His heart hammered against his chest. He lay in bed trying to piece together the scattered remnants of the dream that continued to plague him every time he closed his eyes. He couldn’t make the pieces fit. In his dream, he was with Moira. They were making love, and he was watching himself in the mirror, and then everything changed. The pieces that seemed to fit were suddenly jagged and ill-fitting. The clearity he once had upon waking was now replaced with a dark mirkiness. Jarod struggled again to see the pattern emerge from the chaos, but it was no use. The images were hopelessly jumbled except for one. It was always the same. Jarod shivered remembering it. She was struggling against him sobbing while he violently drilled into her, and then all at once it was quiet. His hand came away wet, and she was choking, and then she was falling against him. He saw her eyes, wide and staring, and then he saw the knife plunged deeply into her heart.
Out of all of the images in the dream, why was it this one that he remembered so vividly? "Dreams were the answers to the questions we have yet to ask ourselves," Mulder had once told him. Jarod had been inclined to believe him, but what if this wasn’t a dream? What if somehow he was seeing a glimmer of what was to come? What if Moira was right? What if the dreams were a glimpse of the future? Would he be able to stop them from coming true? Jarod struggled once again to see the pattern, but the more he tried the more it slipped through his grasp.
"Maybe he wasn’t supposed to see the pattern," Jarod thought wearily, "Maybe he was trying too hard."
Jarod allowed himself to doze clearing his mind of the gruesome images replacing them with thoughts of Moira and the kids. He smiled warmly remembering the sound of Jenna’s laughter as Moira nibbled on her belly. He almost chuckled out loud at the memory of Justin’s response when Moira discovered him cleaning the front hall window with baby wipes. Moira had admonished him, "We don’t do windows, Justy." Justin answered back unfazed, "Hands do windows." Moira had to leave the room. Her face was red from laughing. Jarod missed the house on Long Island. He missed the sounds of children while they played their childhood games of "kick the can," "It," or "Dodge Ball." Moira used to watch the children from the window of her studio. Her face was so wistful while at the same time sad. He imagined she was thinking about her own lost childhood always stuck at the Centre while her father worked, and then there were the nights when she slept in one of the rooms Sydney had made up just for her when her father was away on business. It was small, but cozy-a far cry from the rooms he stayed in.
Even with her fancy clothes, Harvard education, and yearly trips to Paris, Jarod didn’t envy her. She had her own share of childhood traumas; traumas that only now were beginning to surface. He thought he knew all of what happened to Moira as a child. They had grown up together, and yet he had no idea the depth at which her father would go to make sure some things weren’t remembered. "It was bad to remember. Remembering got you dead." In some weird, twisted way Mr. Parker thought he was protecting her, or maybe it was more to protect himself.
The phone rang. Jarod picked up after the second ring. He had a feeling the news would be bad. It was Sal Sorenson, the primary detective on the Julia Sedlow case, the young girl they had found in the ditch.
"Sorry to bother you, Jarod, but we found another body."
Jarod inhaled sharply, "Shit! Are you sure it’s our man?"
"Nesbit seems to think so," Sal said quietly.
Jarod heard the edge in the detective’s voice, "You have your doubts."
"It doesn’t look like the other one, and this one’s a blond. The others were brunettes."
"Where did they find it?"
"In an abandoned farmhouse just outside of town a few miles off the interstate. I can have someone pick you up."
Jarod shook his head, "Thanks, but I’d rather come myself."
"Those roads off the interstate can be confusing. They’re not paved. Are you sure you don’t want someone to pick you up?"
"I’ll be fine, Sal. I’ll find my way," Jarod said quietly. He was tired, and in no mood to hear mindless chatter about the weather, or the state of the government. "If they only knew the truth," Jarod muttered angrily as he closed the door to his motel room and began walking towards the car.
As if on cue, the sky opened up in a torrential downpour making it difficult to see the road ahead of him. Jarod turned the windshield wipers on as high as they would go trying to keep his eyes on the vehicles in front of him. He saw the red and blue lights from the patrol cars as he pulled off the interstate. The unpaved road was starting to give way from the rain, and the Intrigue started to slip before wedging itself in the mud.
"Damn," Jarod cursed as he surveyed the damage. It would take a crane to free the car. He wouldn’t worry about that now. He walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse. Sal Sorenson met him at the door.
"I see you made it," he said looking back towards the crippled Intrigue.
"What do we got, Sal?" Jarod asked trying to see inside the abandoned building.
"Not much, I’m afraid. The rain’s washed away most of the evidence. Looks like she could have been a squatter."
Jarod ignored the detective as he made his way to the body. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the initials, "ILY," tattooed on her arm. He pulled the sheet away from her face hoping the initials were a coincidence, but they weren’t. It was Melina Pratt, the young girl who had explained to him how her father would sign all correspondence to her with the initials, "ILY."
"Funny thing, those initials. Probably gang or something..."Phil Nesbitt began.
"They mean, I love you," Jarod said thickly.
Before Nesbitt could say another word, Jarod pushed passed him trying to hide the tears that had started to well-up in his eyes. He didn’t understand. What was Melina Pratt doing here? Was Kyle responsible for this murder as well? Was he going to kill all the people he had helped?
"Mr. Beaudette? Where are you going? We have a situation here. You can’t just leave," Nesbitt said following Jarod.
Jarod turned. He was tired, wet, and cold, and he needed to be alone to work this out, "Look, Phil," Jarod began, "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. You are a vile and soulless man who couldn’t find his ass with his own two hands."
"Why, you son of a bitch! I never liked you. The boys at the Violent Crimes Task Force said you were the best profiler they ever worked with. You’re nothing but a pansy," Nesbitt snarled, "A fucking do-gooder wanna be FBI profiler."
"Beaudette! Nesbitt! get over here now!"
Jarod shrugged his shoulders as he trudged over to the tent.
"I wish I could say it’s good to see you, son, but you know how it is," Skinner said frowning.
"I prefer to work with Mulder. Is he available?" Jarod asked looking around hoping to catch sight of his friend.
"He couldn’t make it, Jarod," Skinner began.
"Unfucking believable, Skinner. I always suspected you had it in for me, but did you have to stick me with a wacko?" Nesbitt said angrily.
Skinner turned slowly. The frown on his face grew deeper, "Nesbitt, go back to Washington. We can handle this without you."
Nesbitt snarled, "The Hell I will. This is my case! I was the first on the scene."
Jarod shook his head, "No Sir! Detective Sorenson was the first at the scene. He’s the primary. Without him, I wouldn’t be here. He was the one who called me."
"Is that true, Nesbitt?"
"I was going to call him..." Nesbitt stammered.
"Go back to Washington, Phil. You’re on surveillance detail for the Vronsky trial until further notice!" Skinner said frowning even more.
Jarod watched the older agent leave before he spoke, "The girl, I think I know her. She’s the daughter of Lt. Pratt who was stationed in San Diego a few years back. I met her on base. Her name is Melina, Melina Pratt."
"Are you positive?"
Jarod nodded, "When I was on base, she was having some problems with her mom. I followed her into town to a tattoo parlor. I was expecting to see a rose or something, but she just had the initials, "ILY," put on her arm. Her father used to send her messages with that as a signature. The girl Sal found has the same initials."
"Have you told anyone else about this?"
"No. I don’t trust anybody, but you or Mulder," Jarod said thickly.
Skinner looked into the Pretender’s eyes seeing worry, "What’s going on, Jarod?"
Jarod pulled Skinner aside. He took a deep breath trying to regain his composure, "Not here. I need to make a phone call. Meet me in an hour at the all night diner. It’s the one next to the Super 8."
Skinner nodded, "Sure."
***************************************************************************************
She hated when they left the light on. She hid under the bed away from the light willing it to go out. The man calling himself Sylvan Vestes was kind. She heard him arguing with one of the men after she had been taken to her room. He wanted to give her something to eat and a decent bed to sleep in, but the other man had been angry.
"I have my orders."
"Be reasonable! She’s tired and hungry. What harm could it cause to be human?" Vestes argued.
"I have my orders, " the other man repeated angrily.
Moira sighed. Whoever Sylvan was, at least he tried. She wanted to hate him the way she hated Raines, but he was no Raines. While they were on the road, he stopped to allow her to stretch her tired and cramped legs. All the while, he kept talking. At first, he spoke English mixed with something else, and then he wasn’t speaking English at all. He didn’t know he wasn’t speaking English. Moira guessed that it was too much of a strain for him to think in one language and converse in another. It had been the same way with Mrs. Perch, the woman her father had hired to take care of her after her mother died.
Mrs. Perch, or Perchbokov came from Moscow. Her mother had hired her to come on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s to clean. Moira used to look forward to seeing the dark haired woman with the startling blue-gray eyes. She had a son who used to come with her. His name was Peiter, and he used to play the piano while Mrs. Perch worked. Moira wondered what had become of Peiter. He stopped coming when Mrs. Perch took over her care. Moira had wanted to ask Mrs. Perch what happened to him, but her father forbid it saying it was none of her business.
Mrs. Perch never spoke of him, but there were nights when her father would be away on business, and the house would be so quiet that Moira could hear Mrs. Perch sobbing. And, then one day Mrs. Perch was found dead hanging from one of the rafters in the attic. Moira had been the one to find her. School had let out early, and she was eager to get home. Mrs. Perch was going to teach her how to make bread pudding. The house had been silent except for the record that had long stopped playing, and was now skipping. Moira had turned the record player off before going upstairs to her room to change out of her school uniform. As she approached the stairs, Moira saw the stairs to the attic had been pulled down. Her father had deemed the attic off limits. He had her mother’s things put up there, so he wouldn’t have to look at them. Moira climbed the stairs expecting to see her father only to see Mrs. Perch.
She trembled remembering the angry look in her father’s eyes as he told her that Mrs. Perch had left to stay with a sick friend. When she tried to correct him, he hit her hard across the face bloodying her nose. She learned early on there was no point in arguing with Daddy. He was always right and she was always wrong. Nothing she ever did seemed to be enough for him. She got straight A’s in prep school, and when one of his business partners boasted his daughter could play the piano like an angel, she took piano lessons in hopes of winning his approval. She had won competitions from her playing, but it wasn't enough, and then, finally she stopped playing all together. It was only after she took a job at the Centre when he took notice of her. He called her "his treasure."
Moira swallowed hard trying to dissolve the lump forming in her throat. They couldn’t see her under the bed. The camera couldn’t pan that far, but the super-sensitive mics could pick up even her breathing. They always waited until her breathing was steady before grabbing her from a sound sleep. Groggily she would sit while Dr. Jonas, the doctor in charge, asked her questions. At first, she wanted to be helpful thinking if she cooperated, they would let her go, but that wasn’t going to happen. They didn’t want to hear the answers she had to offer, but rather what they needed to change. She grew sick thinking about it. She caught on to Jonas’ game after he had asked her a question, and then before she could respond, he answered it for her. She, at first, tried to correct him saying his answer wasn’t true, and then he would slam his fist on the table saying she was "mistaken." He was always right, and she was mistaken. It was all too familiar.
*****************************************************************************************
KENNEDY AIRPORT
ENWOOD, NY
Sydney sighed in exasperation, "My name is Dr. Sydney Green. I have a reservation for the next flight going to London."
The young man at the counter did his best to smile. The name on his badge read Jeffrey, and this was his first day, "I’m really very sorry, Sir, but that flight is booked up. I can get you on a flight leaving for O’hare at midnight. There you can catch a connecting flight to London..."
"You don’t understand, Jeffrey. I have a ticket. I am one of the passengers on this flight, so I don’t understand why there’s a problem," Sydney said biting his tongue to keep exploding.
"Sir, the ticket you have is stand-by. Now, if you want I can get you on the flight to O’hare..."
Sydney looked at his watch. It was 6pm. "Is there an earlier flight? I have an appointment in London. It’s a matter of life or death."
The young man tapped a few codes into the computer and waited. When the information came up, he shook his head, "I’m sorry, the midnight flight is the best I can do. Did you want me to schedule it?"
Sydney frowned, "I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?"
"I guess not."
After getting the ticket, Sydney walked back towards the cocktail lounge. It was crowded and noisy, but there was an empty table in the back. Sydney slid into the private booth and sighed tiredly. He began massaging his temple with both hands. For a brief moment he thought he heard a familiar squeak of a rusted wheel. Raines’ oxygen tank used to squeak like that. Broots used to joke about sneaking into the old man’s office with a bottle of WD-40, but Moira forbade it. "The squeak is like a cowbell. With it the element of surprise is lost."
"You going somewhere?" a familiar voice hissed.
Sydney looked up quickly seeing Raines standing before him, "You’re dead."
Raines chuckled, "You always did state the obvious."
"Why are you here?"
"You can’t go to London, Sydney," Raines said taking a seat across from him.
"Since when do the dead dictate to the living, Raines?"
"It’s a trap. They want you out of the way."
Sydney laughed scornfully, "Since when do you care so much about Jarod?"
"Hell is a very lonely place, Sydney," Raines said morosely.
"You dug your own grave, old man. You had a choice a long time ago, and now where are you?" Sydney asked staring intensely into Raines’ deep set eyes.
Raines stood up frowning. He was starting to fade, "Don’t go to London, Sydney."
"Go to Hell, Raines!" Sydney yelled as he watched Raines disappear.
Raines smiled mildly. He was barely visible except for his deep set blue eyes, "I’m already there."
Sydney sighed in frustration. He needed to do something, anything. He was spinning his wheels just sitting there. He was getting up to leave when he caught sight of Broots entering the lounge. The programmer looked different somehow, but Sydney couldn’t figure out how, and then he pushed himself up from the table growling in fury.
"Brice! You bastard! I told you..."
"Quiet, old man! Do you want to cause a row?" Brice whispered ignoring Sydney’s outburst.
"I told you to leave Broots alone, but you couldn’t, could you? You had to have him never mind the fact he has a daughter to think of."
"A daughter he would never see again if I hadn’t intervened," Brice said quickly.
"What?"
"I couldn’t let him die, Sydney. It was so awful, and those men. They looked like refrigerators with heads," Brice said in awe.
Sydney shook his head, "These men, what did they look like?"
Brice smiled impishly, "Six-foot, built like line backers, and boy, howdy, they could have been models for GQ in those black Armani's, but not for long."
"You didn’t..." Sydney whispered.
"No, but we have company, Syd," Brice said leaning forward.
"Company?"
"I can’t be sure of this, mind you, but I think there are other parties interested in your Pretender. They’re scared of him, I think. They want to help, but are unsure of how."
"Scared of Jarod? Jarod would never hurt anyone," Sydney said remembering the look on Jarod’s face before he left. There was something more than the usual anger, a darkness fed by fury. Sydney looked down at his hands. The heavy ceramic coffee cup had started to crack under the stress of being clenched so tightly.
"Sydney, is everything alright?"
"Who are they, Brice?"
"I was sorta hoping you could tell me. All I know is that they’re waiting."
"I’m not going to London. Jarod needs me," Sydney said frowning. In the distance, he caught sight of Raines sitting at the counter. As if feeling Sydney’s gaze, the old man turned and nodded slowly smiling.
"Brice, I need you to do something for me. I need you to go to New Orleans and warn Jack. He needs to take the children to the Sands. Jarod has a friend who can help protect them from the Centre there."
"It’s as good as done," Brice said getting up.
"These people, Brice, what do they look like?"
Brice turned frowning, "I never said they were people, Sydney."
"Then what are they?"
Brice smiled, "Who, other than humans, have the most to lose if the natural order isn’t restored?"
Sydney watched Brice leave. He kept asking Brice’s question over and over in his mind. The answer was there, but Sydney couldn’t seem to reach it, and then as he made his way out of the airport, he heard a dog bark. Startled, Sydney turned catching sight of a large white shepherd ambling towards him. The dog stopped just before reaching him. The owner, a red faced woman, yelled out to him to "catch that dog." Sydney reached down retrieving the leash as the dog sat panting amicably.
"I’m sorry. I hope Arnie didn’t scare you?" the woman said apologizing profusely.
"That’s okay. He’s a nice fellow, aren’t you, Arnie," Sydney said petting the dog’s big head good-naturedly.
"Thank you, Sir," she said trying to maneuver the large dog away from Sydney to no avail.
"He must really like you, Mister. Arnold’s a retired police dog, and he hates everybody," the woman explained as Arnold pulled her back towards Sydney.
Sydney laughed as Arnold planted himself in front of him refusing to budge, "I guess so."
Finally, after the woman’s husband came carrying his luggage, the big dog got up wagging his tail in delight. Sydney waved to the couple as they drove off. Arnie watched him from the window with a for long look in his dark brown eyes. Brice’s question came back to him. He knew the answer now. Animals would be the ones to suffer the most if the natural order wasn’t restored. Sydney wondered what the animals were waiting for. Why not attack at once? They were strong, and God knows, they outnumbered the human population by wide margins. Why wait? Unless, they were ordered to wait.
*********************************************************************************************
Last Stop Diner
Yardsley, PA
Jarod smiled warmly at the waitress at the counter. Maybe if he pretended everything was okay, maybe it would be. Maybe he could make himself believe it. He had tried calling Sydney, but he couldn’t get through. Silently, Jarod cursed Sydney for forgetting to charge his cell phone. He was forever reminding the old man that cell phones only worked when they were charged. Finally, he was able to leave a message at the front desk of the motel Sydney was staying at. He hoped Sydney would get the message before he left for Harriet Tashman’s farm. If there was any hope for bringing Kyle in alive, Sydney was the man who could do it. He didn’t trust anyone else.
He took a booth in the back. It provided him with a clear view of the front entrance. First Mate Charles Baker, the young man he had helped in San Diego, stood watch at the back entrance. Jarod had called him hoping the young man hadn’t forgotten what he did for him. Baker’s friend and fellow shipmate had been accused of being incompetent when the pipe he was to have repaired exploded killing the young man and endangering the welfare of the ship. Jarod discovered after doing a sim of the "alleged" accident that the young man had known the pipe wasn’t repaired properly, and when he tried to bring this to the attention of his commanding officer, he was murdered. Baker had been ready to quit the Navy after the loss of his best friend. Jarod was able to restore Baker’s love of the water, and a call to Admiral Johansen helped Baker transfer to a medical carrier. Baker was now studying Veterinary Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, and was eager to help Jarod in any way he could.
Jarod looked at his watch. His throat grew thick. It was the watch Moira had given him for Christmas. She found it among his parents’ things at the Tashman farm. The face had been broken, but it still kept its time. It had an inscription on the back that was worn away from age. The watch had been his father’s, and it was the only thing he had of his parents.’ She had given him back his father when she gave him the beautifully wrapped gift. It was after the children had left with Sydney to sing Christmas carols when Moira tearfully handed it to him. He was beyond words as he held the gold watch in his hands feeling his father’s presence.
He swallowed hard remembering Moira’s smiling face as they danced amidst the wrapping paper and boxes. He missed her. She was so warm and funny. He could hear her laughter raucous and contagious echoing throughout the house. It was music to him, and now there was no music. There was only the silence and the emptiness. He wondered if he would ever see her again. He cursed himself for leaving her with that bastard, Vestes. Silently, Jarod vowed he would kill the bastard if Moira was hurt.
The entrance to the diner opened. Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI, walked through the door nodding at Jarod grimly. He sighed wearily sliding into the seat across from Jarod, "Sorry, I’m late. I just got off the phone with Detective Frank Pendleton of the Baltimore Police Department. They found another body, a woman who was reported missing two days ago."
Jarod’s stomach did a back flip. Now, there were four women found murdered. How many more would die? He didn’t want to think about it. He needed help, but he still didn’t want to trust Skinner. Without Mulder, he didn’t have much of a choice.
"The man responsible for the deaths of these women is my brother," Jarod said thickly.
"I can’t believe Jack would be capable of that, Jarod. Are you sure?"
"Not Jack, -it’s Kyle. He’s alive. He’s killing them..."Jarod began.
"It’s not possible. You must be mistaken. Nesbitt supervised the clean up crew."
Jarod shook his head angrily, "It always comes down to Nesbitt. He’s the one who’s always one step ahead of us. He was the first agent at the scene, wasn’t he?"
Skinner looked at Jarod quickly, "How?"
Jarod opened his Halliburton retrieving a folder containing the results of his search on Nesbitt’s "illustrious" career. Phil Nesbitt was a loose cannon accused of planting evidence in several cases. Jarod wondered why the agent was never prosecuted, but after a careful check of Nesbitt’s bank records, Jarod had his answer. Phil Nesbitt was on someone’s payroll, a someone who stood to benefit greatly if certain people were to be removed.
"It’s funny how much dirt you can dig up if you know where to look, Walt."
Skinner looked at the file morosely, "Where did you get this?"
"I hacked into the Centre’s main-frame. Our boy, Nesbitt’s being paid very well for his services. Check out the date on the transfers. Notice anything interesting?" Jarod asked barely containing the sarcasm in his voice.
"He was the leak. I had my suspicions, but nothing that could be proven," Skinner said frowning.
"I’m stepping away from this. I’m too emotionally involved. The Centre knows what family means to me. It’s what they count on. It’s why they chose Kyle. They knew I couldn’t stay away, but I have to for my own protection and the safety of my family," Jarod said through tears. He slammed his fist on the table, "Damn it, Walt! I love my brother because he’s blood, but he needs to be stopped..."
Skinner nodded, "Why Nesbitt? He's three years away from retirement..."
"I think Nesbitt’s here to clean up the Centre’s dirty work, or at least someone working for the Centre."
"You think Nesbitt’s after Kyle?"
Jaord nodded, "Kyle is out of control, and we have to catch him before Nesbitt does."
"How are we supposed to catch him? He can be anybody. He’s just like you, a fucking chameleon."
"A chameleon blends into its surroundings, Walter. Kyle isn’t capable of blending anymore. He’s too out of control, too angry. He’s killing these women because it’s his job. It’s what he was trained for. He was never meant to be a pretender."
Skinner shook his head in frustration, "What is he, if he’s not a pretender? How can we stop him?"
Jarod leaned in closely almost whispering, "He’s a Cleaner, and he won’t stop until he’s finished cleaning, or until he’s stopped."
"Damn you, Jarod! Why do your answers always turn into more questions?"
"Because you’re not asking the right questions," Jarod said quietly.
"What are the right questions, Jarod?"
"Don’t you think it’s strange that all of the murders took place in or around the DC area with the exception of the co-ed from Philadelphia?"
"We’ve gone over that angle..." Skinner began.
"You’re profile was skewed, remember? What do all these women have in common? Look at the pictures closely, Skinner. What connects them to Kyle? Why is he killing them?"
"Didn’t he kill Mrs. Parker?" Skinner said suddenly seeing the same pattern Jarod was helping him to discover, "She was his first job."
"She wasn’t supposed to be," Jarod said thickly.
"If you know where he is, you could make this a lot easier."
"I thought at first he would go to the farm, but he really never was attached to any of the memories there," Jarod began, "He’ll go where he feels safe. He’ll go home."
"Home?"
"It’s the only place he knows. It’s the only place He can return to," Jarod said thickly imagining the small dingy room that had once been his home for almost 30 years at the Centre.
"He’s at the Centre in Blue Cove, isn’t he?"
Jarod nodded before looking away. He wanted to be the one to bring Kyle in. He was his brother. They had counted on that. He knew that now. Kyle’s murderous rampage was a means of drawing him out into the open. Sydney had been right not to trust that even with the members of the board serving time in prison that the Centre, or what was left of it would give up their relentless pursuit of their "cash cow."
Skinner had his cell phone out punching numbers into it, "Listen up! We need a SWAT team assembled immediately...Destination is Blue Cove, Delaware. I’ll meet the team there, and Murphy, arrest Nesbitt.."
"Thank you, Walter," Jarod said getting up.
"We could really use your services, Jarod. He trusts you," Skinner said escorting Jarod out of the diner, "This doesn’t have to be a blood bath."
"If I’m there, it will be."
Jarod stood watching quietly as Skinner sped off. He wished the agent luck. Kyle was dangerous, and at the Centre, he would be impossible to find.
********************************************************************************************
JACK’S HOUSE
NEW ORLEANS, LA
There was something wrong here. Brice sensed it the minute he turned onto Lysette Street in the rental car he had rented from the small airport in Metairie. Jack lived in the French quarter next to an old church. Sydney had described the church and the beautiful little cemetery behind it as being always well cared for. Seeing it now with the weeds overgrowing most of the headstones deepened Brice’s feelings of unease. Something was definitely wrong here.
The heavy wooden door hung half off its hinges, and the short entrance into the main room was blocked by overturned and broken furniture. Brice cursed knocking against something soft. He glanced down seeing a small dog. Its small mouth had begun to turn up into a snarl as it growled angrily. Brice stooped down staring into its eyes seeing what the dog saw knowing he was too late. The twins were gone;- taken by the men who looked like refrigerators with heads.
The dog got up slowly favoring its front leg. He regarded Brice for a moment before ambling towards the family room. The pictures that had once lined the hallway were torn from their frames and lay scattered on the floor. They were looking for something. The housekeeper, a young woman, stared lifelessly at a TV that had been kicked in. Brice felt his face grow hot. His eyes had started to change. Had anyone seen them, they would have described them as being blue with red irises. It was one of the drawbacks of being a precept. The eyes always gave you away. Brice didn’t care. He was so angry that he had to get out of the house before he exploded. He followed the small dog towards the kitchen. The smell of decay was the first thing Brice noticed when he first entered the small country kitchen. The table was still set for breakfast, and the pitcher of orange juice that was freshly squeezed days before was now fermenting. They had come while they were eating. Both high chairs had been overturned.
Brice exited the kitchen in disgust. He saw through the dog’s eyes the complete and total terror of the children as rough hands tore them away from their family. He felt the dog’s frustration at not being able to stop them. Brice cursed when he saw the dog collapse down the stairway onto the stoop. There would be Hell to pay. Brice closed his eyes trying to calm the raging fire that had started to burn.
He saw him out of the corner of his eye. He was sobbing soundlessly as he dug frantically at what looked like a garden bed, but as Brice got closer he saw that they were small graves, and the bruise and battered man was Jack. Brice knew from Broots’ memories that this man was deaf, so he tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
The desperate man spun expecting another attack, but sighed in relief when he saw it was Broots. He pointed to the graves and signed frantically that the babies were buried there. He saw the men burying two coffins. He had to get to them. When they removed the fresh dirt, they found the small coffins. Brice grabbed frantically at the handles hoping they had found them in time only to find the coffins empty except for a set of dolls. Each doll had a pin pushed deep into its heart. Brice got even angrier at the cruelty of such an act. Jack sat on the back stoop gasping. His lean frame shook as he sobbed while he continued to call the twins’ names until her couldn’t speak them anymore.
**********************************************************************************************
WAYNERIGHT HOTEL
NEW YORK, NY
Sydney hated New York. It was always too crowded, too noisy, and just plain filthy. He had turned in the rental car at Kennedy in favor of a cab. You couldn’t drive in New York, at least not easily. You were always better off walking or in desperate times, you relied on public transportation. These were desperate times, and Sydney was in no mood to fight for a cab, so when one pulled up just ahead of him, he pushed past a young businessman carrying a leather briefcase almost knocking the poor hapless man into the street.
Sydney laughed mirthlessly as the man recovered giving him the finger as the cab pulled into the line of traffic where they sat waiting for a line of Wall Street raiders to finish crossing the street. "Glad I’m not in a hurry," Sydney muttered sarcastically.
The cabby shrugged, "Where to, Pal?"
Sydney reached into his wallet retrieving the address the hotel desk had given him, "There’s an extra $100 if you can get me there in under a half hour."
"You got it, Pal," the cabby said as he sped up dodging a metro bus, and another cab before cutting through a construction zone, "Grab your ass, Pal. We’re going to break the sound barrier."
Sydney held onto the seat while the cab careened through midtown Manhattan. When they were finally out of the city, Sydney breathed a sigh of relief, "Where’d you learn to drive like that?"
"Occupational necessity, Pal. You okay?"
"Yeah, I’m fine, thanks, " Sydney said looking at the name badge on the visor. It read J. Edgar, "Jarod? Is that you?"
There was silence. Sydney saw the cabby tense, and then the car pulled off the road, "Jarod, why all the secrecy? Why the pretense?"
"You lied to me about Kyle," Jarod said thickly.
"We’ve been through this already, Jarod. I explained why I couldn’t tell you. What more do you want from me?"
"I want the truth, Syd! I want to know why you didn’t tell me."
"This does no good, Jarod."
"You told me Moira didn’t want me to know. She knew what he was, didn’t she?"
"What are you talking about. Kyle was a Pretender, like you, Jarod. If it hadn’t been for Raines, he would have..."
"He was never a Pretender, Syd."
"This conversation is ridiculous, Jarod. It’s not going to help us find Moira."
"Tell me about the others, Syd."
"I told you about them," Sydney said angrily.
"Then why is Kyle out there? What mess is he cleaning up this time?"
"He’s sick, Jarod. Kyle is a very sick man."
"Those women, Syd," Jarod began. His shoulder started to tremble as he began sobbing, "They were the rejects from the Pretender project. Kyle was sent to get rid of them. They were never supposed to be released, but someone at the Centre had a heart and rescued them, and now he’s killing them."
"How can you be so sure of this, Jarod?"
"I looked at the autopsy reports on the victims. They had the same genetic anomaly, the same genetic anomaly is in me."
"Oh God!"
"I want to know, please, just tell me the truth, Sydney. Are Moira and I related?"
"Christ! How can you think such a thing? You are not even remotely related to Moira."
"And why should I believe that? You’ve lied to me before."
Sydney looked down at the floor. He took a deep breath before he could speak without his voice breaking, "Because she’s Jacob’s daughter. She’s the reason why Mr. Parker looked the other way when the order to kill Moira came down. She wasn’t his, and he knew it."
Jarod turned facing Sydney. His dark eyes clouded in thought, "How?"
"It was after one of our sessions. It was late. Catherine was beside herself, and then she told me. I always suspected there was something going on between Catherine and Jacob. Whenever Catherine left for Maine, Jacob would pull one of his disappearing acts. It was only a matter of time before Mr. Parker suspected, and then.. "
"You were run off the road," Jarod said thickly.
Sydney nodded, "After the accident, I tried to get her to leave. I begged her to take Moira and get the Hell away from the Centre, she wouldn’t leave him. He used to beat her, did you know that, Jarod?"
Jarod swallowed hard remembering the battered woman from the photographs, "Yes."
"We argued that last session. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t leave him, and then she told me about the children she had been rescuing. It was easy to see why my brother loved her. I loved her. We all did. She was the bravest person I knew. She willingly endangered her life so that these children could have a normal life."
"You should have left then, Sydney. You should have taken Moira and Maya away, especially after Mrs. Parker’s death, but instead you left Moira with a man who equates love with power. If you loved Catherine so much, why did you allow Mr. Parker to raise your brother’s children..."
"There are so many times I ask myself the same question, Jarod, but I know in my heart I did the right thing. Mr. Parker changed after Catherine’s death. In his own sick way he loved Moira. He sent her to the best schools. She had everything. I could never give her that if I had left, and then I had others to consider. If I had left, you would have wound up in the wrong hands and then I would have never forgiven myself."
"Do you forgive yourself now?"
"Do you forgive me, Jarod?"
"This isn’t about me, Sydney. This is about you. Do you forgive yourself?"
"I honestly don’t know," Sydney said quietly.
Jarod sat silently staring out into the distance seeing nothing but the void that had always hung behind him. It was now in front threatening to suck the very life from him. He missed the twins, Moira, and their life on Long Island. He wondered if his life would ever return to normal. "What was normal, anyway?" Jarod thought. Still, he missed the life he and Moira shared after their escape from the Centre. They were happy, and then before he knew it, it was over.
"I can’t find her, Syd. I try to reach out to her, but all I get is static," Jarod said swallowing hard.
"We’re going to find her, Jarod. I’m sure of it," Sydney said attempting to assuage Jarod’s fears, but the words felt hollow to him. He had no idea where Moira was or who was behind her disappearance.
Sydney’s cell phone rang. He answered it on the first ring, "Sydney, here!"
Jarod watched as the older man spoke into the phone. Something was wrong. Sydney’s face had turned red, and then there was an uncomfortable silence.
"Sydney, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?"
"They got them. The son of a bitches at the Centre got them!"
"Got who? What are you talking about?" Jarod asked in confusion.
Sydney took a ragged breath stealing himself for the inevitable, "They got the twins, Jarod. A sweeper team was sent to Jack’s house where they broke down the door. They killed the housekeeper, beat Jack almost to death, and then they just took them..."
"I don’t understand. Jack and the twins were supposed to be at the Sands. You were supposed to warn them, Sydney," Jarod gasped biting his lip to keep from screaming.
"I told Broots to warn him. I..."
"You sent a computer programmer up against a team of sweepers. Sydney, how could you be so stupid? How could you do this to me, to Moira? We trusted you," Jarod said angrily.
"I’m sorry, Jarod," Sydney said looking away.
Jarod maneuvered the cab back onto the highway. He forced himself to focus on the road in front of him not daring to catch a glimpse of the older man sitting in the backseat. When he was making the turn into the airport entrance, Jarod finally broke the silence.
"There’s something else, isn’t there?"
Sydney nodded taking a deep breath before he spoke, "They left a message addressed to you."
"Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. What did this message say?"
"Broots wouldn’t tell me. He said you needed to see it."
**************************************************************************************
ABANDONED MILITARY INSTALLATION
CAPE WYNELLE, MT
"Come on, Miss Parker, we’ve been over this already. Why won’t you cooperate? You know it will go easier for you if you do," Dr. Jonas said quietly.
Moira sat across from Jonas staring down at her hands. She closed her eyes trying to rest them feeling herself begin to drift off. They never allowed her to sleep for more than an hour at a time, and even that was questionable.
"Wake up, Miss Parker!" Jonas yelled angrily.
Moira jumped at the sudden noise waking immediately. She looked at the balding man sitting across from her and frowned. "Too bad someone so good looking had to be such a pain in the ass," she thought wearily.
"What is your name?" Jonas repeated trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.
Moira smiled tiredly, "My name is Moira Beaudette. I am married to a man named Jarod Beaudette. I have four beautiful children and..."
Jonas slammed his fist down hard on the table in rage, "Your name is Miss Parker. You are not married. The man you claim to be your husband is an enemy to the Centre. It is your job to track him down and return him to the Centre. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time. What is your name?"
"My name is Moira Beaudette. I am married to Jarod Beaudette, and I have four beautiful children," Moira said firmly enjoying the look of absolute rage in the doctor’s eyes. She didn’t care what they did to her. No one was going to take away her love for Jarod or her children. Without Jarod she was nothing, and she would be damned if she would let them take Jarod away from her.
Jonas stood up. He reached across the table grabbing Moira by the hair twisting it so she was forced to lean forward, "You are going to pay for this insolence, Miss Parker. When I get done with you, you’ll wish you never set eyes on me."
As the guards led Moira away, she turned to Jonas. Her eyes bored into him, "I already wish that, Jonas."
Before he knew what he was doing, Jonas was on her pinning her up against the wall striking her across the face, "You have no idea who I am. You have no idea how bad I can hurt you, Miss Parker."
One of the guards pulled Jonas away from the battered woman, "Come on, Sir. Mr. Lyle won’t be happy if you damage the merchandise."
At the mention of Lyle’s name, Moira turned away from Jonas hiding her fear. Jonas’ little mind games were nothing compared to Mr. Lyle’s brand of coercion. The image of the dapper young man in the Armani suit came to her. He was all smiles, especially when he knew he found his mark. Moira still bore the scars from her last encounter with Lyle, an encounter Sydney helped her to forget.
Sydney wasn’t here to help her. She was alone this time. Tristan, her only ally, had disappeared. She had asked for him only to be told, "his assignment was over." She wasn’t an assignment to him. People don’t risk their lives for assignments. He brought her food every night after the guards had changed shifts, and now she went hungry forced to survive on the one meal that was thrust into her room every morning. It was inedible, but she ate it with relish because it was the only thing she had. The night before the guards came taking the bed leaving her only with a stained matt. She couldn’t hide from them anymore. The cameras tracked her every move even when she had to relieve herself in the small metal prison toilet. Now, she knew how Jarod must have felt when he was imprisoned at the Centre.
The door closed leaving Moira alone with her thoughts. She sat against the wall facing away from the camera. It was the only privacy she had, and she felt herself sinking into the darkness searching for the void that she had always been so afraid of. They couldn’t reach her beyond the void if she could only open the door to the vortex, she could leave this place and never come back, but the door was always out of reach. As much as she reached out for it something was always keeping her from it.
"What did Lyle do to me?" Moira asked searching her memory, "Why was she so frightened? Why did the very mention of his name cause the hair on the back of her neck to stand up?" He did something to me."
Moira closed her eyes seeing herself as she watched a DSA of Jarod. The questions he asked Sydney, "What did they do to me? How did they erase three weeks of my life?," came back to her. Moira recoiled from the image of Jarod struggling to keep from being forcibly crammed into a metal cylinder where he was systematically injected with a drug that paralyzed all involuntary bodily functions, and if that were not enough, frozen until he was dead only to be re-animated. Moira tried to turn away from the painful image of the man she loved being so horribly treated, but something caught her attention, something she didn’t remember seeing before.
There were two metal cylinders. "One had been Jarod’s and the other..." The thought hung unfinished in her mind as an image came to her. Jarod was screaming, but it wasn’t him they were taking. They were taking someone else, someone he cared about, and then in a flash of memory, Moira remembered what it felt like to be paralyzed wanting to scream, but unable to open her mouth. She remembered the freezing cold, and then she was watching herself from a distance as Raines frantically tried to get her heart to capture.
Moira let out a sob as she pounded the wall in frustration, "Why? Why did you let them do that to me, Daddy?"
He had been there the whole time overseeing the project. From the vantage point of where she floated, she had seen him watching from the gallery while the monsters performed their science projects, "Damn you, Daddy. You were supposed to protect me. I trusted you, and you..."
The door to her cell opened. Rough hands grabbed at her pulling her to her feet, "Let’s go, Miss Parker. It’s time for your shower."
"No!" Moira screamed hoarsely, "No!"
"You behave yourself, or you know what will happen!"
"Let go! Please, I have money. My husband can pay you. Please don’t do this!" Moira cried frantically struggling against the guards who strapped her onto the metal gurney that would take her to the treatment room, "Please! Oh God! Please, don’t do this!"
"Close your eyes, Miss Parker!" one of the guards ordered as he plunged the hypodermic needle into her arm.
The effect of the drug was instantaneous. Everything seemed to slow down, and the orderlies walking along side the gurney spoke as if their mouths were full of cotton, and someone was touching her face closing her eyes taping them shut. In a haze, Moira felt herself being placed onto another table, and someone was attaching something to her head, and then in a flash she felt her body convulse as a current of electricity coursed through her head. She tried to scream, but someone had forced something between her teeth keeping her from biting her tongue, and then it was over leaving her gasping in pain and confusion not knowing whether she dreamed it, or did it really happen?
The cool water felt good as the orderly sponged Moira down. He spoke to her soothingly, "You’ll feel better now. I’m going to see to it you’ll get that vanilla ice cream you like so much."
Moira closed her eyes trying to keep from being sick. Her mind had started to fog up again. She struggled against it knowing that if she allowed herself to relax, to give into the fog, she would slip further and further back into the darkness. She had to stay with it. She owed it to Jarod and the children to fight for as long as she could. An image of Jenna and Justin came to her. They were playing in their playpen. Jenna was laughing at Justin as he imitated Dante who was sticking his cold nose against Justin’s forehead licking him through the mesh. "Moments like these are golden," Sydney had told her while they both laughed watching the toy poodle continue licking Justin’s face while the young boy returned the wet kisses with his own.
"Daddy never let me have a pet," Moira caught herself thinking remembering herself as a little girl pleading for a dog, "I’ll take care of it. You’ll never even know it was here, Daddy. I Promise. Please, Daddy? Please?"
Moira winced remembering the loneliness of being in that big house waiting for her father to come home. It was always the same. She would prepare dinner, set the table, and then wait. Sometimes it was well after dark when he would arrive home tight-lipped and surly smelling of expensive bourbon. Dinner was always cold, and he was always angry, "Why can’t you leave it in the oven they way your mother used to do?"
She would sit quietly watching him eat waiting for him to dismiss her from the table. She always took her meals in the kitchen before he arrived as a means of avoiding his intense scrutiny of what she was eating and how much. "Girls are supposed to be thin and attractive, unlike you Moira. Why can’t you be like those models I always read about?"
Before her mother died, there was always something baking in the oven. Moira would come home from school to smells of sweet rolls or chocolate chip cookies. Together they would sit at the kitchen table laughing the way mothers and daughters always do when they share secrets and inside jokes. After her mother died, there was no more baking and no more laughter, but there were plenty of secrets, deadly secrets. She could hear the whispers of the men who came at night when her father thought she was asleep. She would hear the cars pull up, doors slamming, and angry words filled with threats, and then she would hear his unsteady step on the landing as he made his way to her room...
Moira struggled to push the memories away stifling a sob of anguish at the image of the tall man standing in the doorway to her room. She winced remembering the smell of him as he climbed into her bed, and when it was over and he was gone, she would get out of bed removing the soiled sheets washing them before the cleaning woman ever saw them. "It’s our little secret, Moirranda. You’re so much like your mother-so beautiful, so sweet."
She turned her head burying her face into the pillow as she sobbed. All the years of trying to be the perfect little girl, daddy’s little angel came back to her in a jumble of images. The reality that she spent her whole life living a lie hurt her intensely. She was willing to throw away the love of her life to please the one man who could never be pleased. Her sobs of anguish turned to sobs of rage and anger. What did her mother ever see in him? Why had she married him? Why did she leave her with a monster? Why couldn’t it have been me? Why did I survive? Why?
In her mind she heard a distant answer through the static, "Your mother had a purpose, a mission. She had hoped you would have continued it for her. You can still do it. It’s not too late." Moira closed her eyes listening to the voice feeling a sense of peace come over her. She knew who spoke. The voice in her mind was Sydney’s. No matter what trouble she found herself in, Sydney was always there leading her through the madness and the sorrow. Moira smiled gently knowing she was no longer alone. Sydney was here for her, and she reached out to him in her mind, but the static kept getting in the way. Finally, Moira drifted off into the darkness feeling herself floating until there was nothing, and then she found herself in front of the door separating her from the vortex and the void beyond it.
VIEWING ROOM
Dr. Jonas watched Miss Parker on the close circuit monitor. She was a strong woman, but how much longer could she hang on? Nothing seemed to shake her calm resolve. He had been working on her for three weeks, and they were still at square one. It was frustrating. The electro-shock was supposed to dull her into obedience, but it seemed only to propel her deeper into the past. Some pasts were not meant to be remembered. Miss Parker knew many secrets, and her alliance with the Pretender was dangerous.
He didn’t know all of the details surrounding the Pretender Project, but Mr. Lyle was adamant about neutralizing what he referred to as an "explosive" situation.
"She can hurt us, Dr. Jonas. It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t."
Jonas hated failure almost as much as he hated the smug response Mr. Lyle gave him when he turned in his report.
"You’re a smart man, Dr. Jonas. Miss Parker is just a woman. You’re not going to tell me you let yourself be outsmarted by a woman."
Jonas reached into his pocket withdrawing a small dime sized electronic device. It was similar to the rumored V-chip in that it could track a subjects movements, but there was more to this chip than just tracking. The Electronic Neurotransmitter Pain Controller or ENPC-12 was specifically designed to help control chronic pain by neutralizing the faulty nerves. The chip was flawed because it couldn’t be tailored to fit each subjects needs, so the chip was shelved until further research could be done.
Lyle wasn’t a scientist. He wanted results, and he wanted them quickly. Jonas looked down at the chip. Tomorrow morning it would implanted into Miss Parker’s brain, and then Mr. Lyle would get the results he wanted. Miss Parker would be "Neutralized."
The phone rang startling Jonas. He picked it up, "Yes?"
"Good evening, Dr. Jonas. Sorry for disturbing at such a late hour," a good-natured voice began, "I’ll be picking up the subject after the surgery. Please make sure she’s fit to travel."
"Of course, Mr. Lyle. Miss Parker will be packaged for transport. Is there anything else you require?" Jonas asked frowning.
"That will be all, Dr. Jonas," Lyle replied.
Jonas looked at the monitor for a long time. She was facing away from the camera maintaining her privacy even through the constant surveillance. She never let them see her face. Even in their sessions, she never made eye contact. He forced it once reaching out grabbing her face forcing her to meet his gaze, and it was then that he saw it. He didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t put the "it" into words, but he knew instinctively the "it" was something to be avoided.
He heard a low moan. She was pulling at her restraints trying to pull away from something, and then she started gasping fighting for breath not getting enough, and then she was still. Jonas entered the room ready with the adrenaline. He injected it into IV, and waited. She didn’t disappoint him. When he was satisfied she was out of danger, Jonas left feeling miserable and angry. Something was happening; something he couldn’t get his mind around, and this infuriated him to no end. He would never have cared one way or the other if one of his subjects were to die, but some strange reason he couldn’t shake the image of Miss Parker lying on that cold metal gurney blue and lifeless. It wasn’t right, and he had to make it right. He was the one who gave her the bed, and he was the one who ordered the ice cream for her knowing it was the only thing she would eat after her treatment.
"Why is it people always seem to do the right thing around you, Miss Parker?" Jonas asked quietly as he watched her on the monitor mesmerized by the sleeping form in front of him. Before he realized what he was looking at, there she was looking at him. He tried to pull himself away, but her eyes locked onto his, and then he felt a rush of thoughts flood through him. He saw his life as if were a movie playing out before him. He was ashamed. He had hurt so many people, destroyed so many lives, and for what?
Jonas put his head down on the desk sobbing loudly suddenly not caring if anybody saw him. What this beautiful creature told him hurt him far worse than anything he had ever felt in all of his 57 years.
"God is forgiving. God forgives you, Clarence," the gentle voice repeated over and over again.
He was a man of science. There was no such thing as God, but now Jonas knew that all his life, he was mistaken. There was and is a God, and he was not the God who believed in hate and greed, but in love; unconditional and parental love. This notion was the "it" Jonas had been avoiding all of his life. His heart didn’t beat erratically anymore. The shortness of breath he usually suffered was gone replaced with a feeling of health and vigor. Jonas would have done leg sprints up and down the hallway had it not been for the message he received with the revelation.
"You’ve been given a brief reprieve. I suggest you put it to good use."
Jonas stared at the ENPC-12 transmittor. For a long time he just sat staring at the loathesome chip unsure how to proceed. And then an idea started to take shape in his mind. There wasn’t much time. He had to get Miss Parker away from here tonight. The implant could kill her if it wasn’t used properly, and Mr. Lyle would make sure it wasn’t used properly. It was a shame such a useful chip capable of helping to relieve pain would be put to such a horrendous use. Jonas couldn’t stand thinking about it.
The hallway leading towards the main entrance was quiet. The security guard stood watching his post. He nodded politely as Dr. Jonas made his way towards Miss Parker’s room. The guards never asked questions. They were used to doctors coming and going at all hours of the night. The thought never occured to Jonas as to how he would get Miss Parker passed the security guards. She wasn’t exactly ambulatory. He cursed his own stupidity for not thinking this out.
"Miss Parker," Jonas said urgently as he tried unsuccessfully to wake her, "Mrs. Beaudette, it’s Dr. Jonas. You have to wake up now."
There was noise coming from the hallway. Jonas heard the entrance doors open, and then he heard the guard greeting the newcomer cheerfully.
"Good evening, Mr. Lyle. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow afternoon."
The footsteps were approaching fast. Jonas swallowed his fear before leaving Miss Parker’s room meeting Mr. Lyle halfway firmly shaking the outstretched hand, "You’re early."
"Change of plans, Dr. Jonas. We’re moving her tonight. The Leer is standing by. We’ll be leaving as soon as Miss Parker is packaged for transport."
Jonas frowned, "She’s in no shape to travel, Mr. Lyle. She had another episode earlier this evening. If we move her now, we’ll lose her for sure."
"You’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, Dr. Jonas. I have complete trust in your abilities as a doctor," Lyle said smiling warmly as he stepped around the older man in an attempt to gain access to Miss Parker’s room.
Jonas felt his face grow hot. Suddenly, he wanted Lyle out of Miss Parker’s room. Something was going to happen, and anything having to do with Mr. Lyle would not be pleasant.
"Mr. Lyle, why don’t we let the staff get her ready. It’s what we pay them for, isn’t it?"
Lyle seemed to ignore him as he opened the door. There was a moment of silence before Lyle spoke, "Does she always sleep that way?"
"She doesn’t like the camera, and she doesn’t like people watching her sleep," Jonas said attempting to keep the anger out of his voice.
Lyle turned, "You sound as if you’re sympathizing with her. Are you, Dr. Jonas?"
"Of course not!" Jonas said too quickly, "I’m just doing my job. Isn’t that what you pay me for?"
"Of course, Dr. Jonas. You’re nothing if not professional. How could I have even suspected such a thing?" Lyle said good-naturedly.
Jonas watched quietly as the staff of nurses and orderlies prepared the sleeping woman for transport. He prayed she would sleep all the way to wherever they were going. He didn’t know what Lyle would do if she were to suddenly wake up and start asking questions. He knew what he would have done, and it sickened him knowing he was once capable of such human degradation.
The comfort of the limo did nothing to calm Jonas’ nerves. If someone had asked him before he had taken this assignment if he cared what happened to the people he destroyed, he would have laughed at them, but now after looking into Miss Parker’s eyes, he would have anwsered, "Yes, I do care. I understand now how it feels to hurt. I understand what it’s like to be in a place where no hope exists."
Mr. Lyle climbed into the limo smiling warmly, "Have you ever been to the London office, Dr. Jonas?"
"No, I can’t say I have had that pleasure, Mr. Lyle," Jonas said barely hiding the contempt he felt for the bastard. He wondered what it would take to permanently remove that supersilious grin Mr. Lyle wore as if it were plastered to his face. The thought made Jonas smile.
"I think you’ll like it there. We’ve got big plans, Dr. Jonas. The Centre will be happy to have you aboard. It would definitely be more gratifying than your previous assignment," Lyle said still smiling.
"Jesus, didn’t the bastard ever stop smiling?" Jonas wondered. He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying what he really felt about working for the Centre. He would have opted for the pain of root canal over the prospect of working with people who enjoyed using their power simply because they could, but instead he smiled back, "I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Lyle. I could use a change of scenary."
****************************************************************************************
BARKSDALE AIRFORCE BASE
SHREVEPORT, LA
"God Damn it, Jarod! I’m not riding 320 miles in silence," Sydney yelled trying to be heard over the sound of the chopper, "Jarod, please! I already said I was sorry. What more do you want?"
Jarod spun clenching his fists, "What more do I want?"
"Jarod, this is doing us no good to argue like this. You said it yourself we have to stick together."
"When were you going to tell me Vestes was a fraud, a plant working for the Centre?"
"I didn’t know, Jarod. I swear to God! As soon as I found out, I booked a flight to London. I wanted to talk to the real Sylvan Vestes, but..." Sydney began.
"Why didn’t you? If you had the plans to go, why didn’t you?"
"There was a mix-up at the gait. They lost my reservation, so I had to get a flight to Chicago, and then to Heathrow..."
"Answer the question, Sydney! Why didn’t you go?"
"It was a trap, Jarod, a clever ruse designed to get me out of the way," Sydney frowned.
"Raines told you, didn’t he?" Jarod said thickly.
"How...?"
"He told me not to go to Delaware. He said it was they wanted, what they counted on. I didn’t want to listen, Syd. The man held nothing but contempt for me when he was alive, and now he wants to help. Forgive me, Syd, if I find this too coincidental to be coincidence. Why would Raines want to help us? What’s in it for him?"
"He’s trying to make things right, Jarod. I think he’s stuck here caught between the living and the dead, and the only way he can move on is to redeem himself with at least one selfless act," Sydney began.
Jarod snorted loudly, "Why do I feel I’m stuck in some twisted version of "Quantum Leap?"
"Quantum Leap?"
"You’ve never seen ‘Quantum Leap?’"
Sydney shook his head, "I’m not a fan of the idiot box."
"It’s a good show. It’s about a super genius, Dr. Samuel Beckett, who leaps into people’s lives ‘trying to put right what once went wrong.’"
Sydney chuckled, "Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?"
"Not quite, Syd. I didn’t help people. At least not in the way, Sam Beckett did," Jarod said quietly, "Nothing I did ever changed anything. The anger never went away, and with each sting, it got worse until I couldn’t breath, and then it happened."
"You’re actions were completely justified, Jarod."
"Since when is it ever justified to take the life of another human being, Sydney?" Jarod began angrily. The long flight and lack of sleep had started to make him edgy.
"When the lives of innocent people are in danger. You did everything you could, Jarod."
"It wasn’t enough, Syd. It didn’t have to end like that," Jarod said thickly remembering the power he felt when he was ready to go in for the "kill," but there was no tearful confession only laughter and clapping as John Gillian reveled in how many lives he destroyed in his own personal campaign to rid the world of stupid people.
The sting was supposed to make Gillian experience the torment he put his victims through, but instead, Gillian was unmoved, "Hey, Jarod! When are you going to wise up? This earth isn’t meant for the mentally challenged. We belong to Mensa. We have power."
"And you’re doing the world a favor, is that it, Gillian? You stood over a 17 year old mother and forced her to watch while you choked the life out of her three month old daughter," Jarod yelled through the plexi-glass window."
"She was a fucking breeder, Jarod. A slut who couldn’t keep her fucking legs together to save her life."
"She was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, and you took that life away from her. Where you’re going you better watch your back, Gillian. Your new friends don’t take kindly to child killers."
Gillian had laughed, "I’m not going anywhere, St. Jarod. I’m a very sick man, and sick men don’t go to prisons. They go to the nuthouse, and then in 6 months I’ll be released with a brand new prescription of Zoloff."
Jarod laughed back ignoring the doomed man never expecting to see John Gillian again, but he had misjudged Gillian. True as his word, John Gillian was released from Our Lady of Mercy State Mental Hospital 6 months later. A month after Gillian’s release, Jarod began receiving envelopes filled with photographs. Most were of teenaged runaways. The young woman were beaten and tortured to death. Jarod blamed himself for their deaths. He pretended to be a profiler for the Violent Crimes Task Force in hopes of recapturing Gillian, but the man was well connected and was able to disappear easily only to show up again a few months later somewhere else. And, then Gillian upped the ante by sending Jarod photos of Moira and the boys. Enclosed in one of the envelopes was a letter detailing what Gillian would do to Moira when it was her "time." The thought sickened Jarod imagining another man touching her let alone someone as repulsive as Gillian.
Finally, after chasing Gillian for 6 months, Gillian’s luck ran out. He murdered the daughter of one of his business associates. Desperate people do desperate things, and Gillian was no different. The connections that were supposed to shield him now had placed a price on his head. He was running from the Galini family and the VCTF. Something had to give, and it did one cold November day inside a trendy upscale bagel shop.
It was Sunday, and it was Moira’s turn to pick up the bagels. The boys were playing their Nintendo64, Sydney was reading the newspaper, and he was waiting for her. The bagel shop was a 10 minute drive from their house on River Rd. The bagel shop would be crowded, but that wouldn’t keep her this long. He drove into town parking across the street. The road was blocked off, and the police and swat teams were out in full dress gear. The front entrance of the store was cordoned off with police tape, and bodies littered the floor. What struck Jarod as odd was that no one was doing anything. Everyone was milling around, but no one moved to help the victims.
There was a scream, and then something tore through him. He was hit. Jarod looked up to see John Gillian getting ready to take another shot at him, but Moira kept him from getting a steady shot. He held her as he tried once again to shoot at him, but Jarod was on his feet and running. He went around the back of the store scaling the fire escape as if it were nothing, and then he stood facing Gillian.
What happened next was still a mystery. Seeing that monster touching his wife had set something off in Jarod; something strange and horrifying. It was almost as if he stopped being Jarod and became Gillian understanding at once what motivated him, knowing what would drive the man over the edge, and using it without thought of what it meant. In the end, Gillian had thrown himself off the roof, but not before Jarod gave him a taste of what it felt like to be average. The power Gillian derived from his genius was suddenly stripped from him leaving him dumb and confused. The cruelty, of course, was leaving Gillian with the knowledge of what he had lost, and it was this knowledge that scared Gillian into leaping off the roof to his death. "It was only fitting that it should have ended that way. One less retard in the gene pool, " Jarod thought as he watched the police and ambulance workers clean up the carnage, and then he was rushing Moira to the hospital.
It was after they had buried the twins, their first twins, that Jarod disappeared. He couldn’t rid himself of Gillian. He struggled with thoughts he had no business thinking. Sydney never taught him these things. He wasn’t better than everyone else simply because he had a higher I.Q., but whenever Jarod found himself dealing with someone who said or did something "stupid," Jarod had to resist the urge to choke the living shit out of the person. Gillian hadn’t always been demented. It was something that had developed over a period of time. He had been normal, and then one day he just stopped being normal, and people started having freak accidents, and then they started dying. "Was this going to happen to him? Was he being punished? Was this the reason God took his babies?" Jarod didn’t know, and this not knowing scared him
"Part of me died that day, Syd. Before when I was pretending, I was always able to shake it off, but not this time. It was almost like I was being pulled under by this undercurrent. I wasn’t me anymore. I lost myself, and I swore I would never let that happen again," Jarod said quietly. His eyes never left the road, but he could feel Sydney watching him, "You knew about that."
Sydney nodded, "Moira told me. It’s why you stopped pretending."
Jarod sighed, "I’m not cut out for the 9 to 5 life. I tried, Syd. I thought I could just stop, but pretending is who I am; it’s like breathing, and we both know I can’t stop breathing, so here I am back where I started."
"You never cease to amaze me, Jarod. Your abilities, your incredible intellect, no wonder Moira worships the ground you walk on."
"I think you have that backwards, Syd. I worship the ground she walks on. I always have ever since we were kids. She’s the reason I came back. I won’t let her go without a fight."
The light was on in the kitchen as they pulled into the driveway. Jarod stretched his long legs trying to get his circulation moving. Sydney climbed the porch steps with Jarod following close behind him. Before they could reach the door, it opened. Broots stood back allowing the two men in.
"You two must be exhausted. Come, I have some coffee brewing in the kitchen."
Jarod nodded gratefully following Broots into the kitchen where he poured himself a mug of coffee drinking it even before he got to the table. For a brief moment there was a maddening silence, and then Jarod felt his chest tighten as if someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart, and then Sydney was helping him to the chair where Jarod began howling in anguish. He saw it as if he was there. The door had been kicked in. Dante` was frantically barking. Bethanne was pouring coffee, and then she was on the floor dead from a single gun-shot to the base of the skull. Jack hadn’t heard the shot, but the vibration of the floor caused him to turn. He had been making pancakes. The griddle made a handy weapon, but it was no match for the .9 millimeter pointed at his face. Jack watched helplessly while the blond woman who had led the team scooped up his brother’s children. The sweeper Jack beaned with the hot griddle continued beating him until they were finished searching for whatever it was they had been searching for.
Later, after the images had subsided, Jarod looked at the child sized matching coffins. Jack described how he had woken to find himself on the back steps facing the freshly dug graves. He was beside himself in grief, and even through the intense agony, he frantically uncovered what he thought were the twins. Instead, he found hand-crafted, porcelain dolls fashioned to look remarkably like Jenna and Justin. Each doll had a large bobby pin piercing its heart. The message couldn’t have been clearer.
Jarod turned staring at Sydney searching for some sort of solace, "I can’t feel her anymore. I can’t feel them. I can’t feel anything."
Sydney lunged forward taking Jarod in his arms hugging him while the Pretender sobbed into the older man’s shoulder, "This is temporary, Jarod. We’ll find them, and this nightmare will be over. You’ll see. I’ll make sure of it."
**********************************************************************************************
Brice stood mesmerized. Jarod sat woodenly staring at the dolls as he turned them over and over in his hands. "What was he looking for," he wondered. He wanted to ask, but Sydney glared at him everytime he went as far as the doorway leading into the kitchen. Most of the debri had been cleared away. Jack was upstairs sleeping finally, and Jarod, the Pretender was doing whatever it was a pretender did.
Sydney explained this whole process of pretending several times, but to Brice it was still confusing, irritating, and fascinating all at once. In all of his travels, Brice had never encountered someone so perplexing, except for that one night so long ago in a small run down boarding house on the outskirts of London. He had been young then, and in love. It was the first time he had given in to his desires. He watched the young man from a safe distance afraid of his feelings. For weeks he followed the young man until one night when he was coming out of a pub, the young man approached him.
"Don’t think me foward, Sir, but I think you’re in love with me."
Never before had someone been so open with him. Never before had someone been able to reach into his heart and discover its hidden secrets the way this young man could.
"I know you because I am you. I feel what you feel. You cannot deny what you are, Brice."
In looking at Jarod, Brice remembered how much he loved that dear, sweet young man. He called himself Collin, but that wasn’t his name. Weeks later, Brice had returned to the rundown flat to find the young man gone. He had asked around, but no one remembered who he was. Collin had been there when he needed someone. He was all things to all people. Brice guessed this to be true of Jarod. Why else had he been able to stay always one step ahead of the Centre? Why else had he managed to charm the Chairman’s beautiful daughter?
The phone rang bringing Brice back. As much as he enjoyed the trappings of the modern world, he found them to be a hindrance. He hoped this bit of wire would bring good news for a change. It was for Jarod. Brice dreaded interrupting whatever it was Jarod was doing, but the man on the other end of the phone was insistent.
Brice approached the doorway of the study about to enter. When he heard a low whine followed by a growl. The little dog sitting at Sydney’s feet watched him intently. Sydney looked up from the newspaper.
"I wouldn’t go in there if I were you," Sydney said frowning.
"What’s he doing now?"
"He’s simming for a pattern, something to fill in the missing pieces."
"There’s some guy by the name of Mulder on the line. He’s says it’s urgent," Brice said watching Jarod with unchecked awe.
"Why didn’t you say so, Brice. For Christ sake, Jarod’s been hoping he’d call."
An hour later, Jarod emmerged from the study. His face was ashen, "Kyle escaped. Nesbitt never returned to Washington. He wanted Kyle for himself. They found the bastard locked in one of the sim labs. It seems Kyle needed some answers, and Nesbitt was less than willing to provide them. He died before they could get him to hospital."
"Jarod, I’m sorry," Sydney began.
"Do you know why I stopped pretending, Syd?"
"You told me you were afraid of getting lost in the game."
"I’m afraid of who I become when I’m emmersed in a pretend. It’s like a cold hand touching my heart. I don’t feel anything, except the rage and the helplessness. I keep asking myself if Kyle felt the same way? What is it that finally drove him over the edge? I used to think if I stopped, I could somehow avoid taking the same path, but it’s not the pretending that will take me down the same road, but the rage that is always under the surface waiting to explode. By not pretending, not getting involved, I was attempting to drive the rage away. I was kidding myself, Syd."
"Pretending isn't something you can cast aside, Jarod. It's what you do. It's who you are."
"I do miss it sometimes, but it's not who I am anymore. At least not completely. I have something Kyle doesn’t have."
"You know who you are, Jarod. Even before when you didn’t know who your parents were, you always had a strong sense of identity," Sydney said smiling.
"Kyle’s still out there. Mulder seems to think he’ll stay close to Blue Cove."
Sydney sighed, "It’s his home. It’s the only place he knows."
"If what he’s doing is cleaning up one of the Centre’s messes, then we need to make sure Madeline is safe. If he finds her, he’ll kill her," Jarod said thickly.
Sydney nodded reaching into his breast pocket retrieving a black book full of addresses, "I have the number for the home in here. I had a feeling it would be needed."
Jarod watched as the older man dialed the number for the permanent care home. He watched as Sydney’s face turned white.
Sydney shook his head in disbelief, "She’s gone, Jarod..."
"We’re too late, aren’t we? He’s got her. Kyle’s got her."
Sydney shook his head, "They went to get her for dinner, and she was gone. They found one of the nurses tied up in the closet. The odd thing is everyone swears they saw this same nurse leave hours before. Apparently, Madeline assumed her identity."
"What is she, Sydney?"
Sydney blanched, "I never dreamed this could happen. She never evidenced this kind of behavior."
"Is she a pretender, Syd?"
Sydney frowned, "Not exactly."
"Not exactly? Not exactly? What does that mean? Not exactly," Jarod fumed.
"Madeline is a Replicator. She doesn’t just pretend, she becomes. She creates an illusion designed at masking her own identity. The nurse at the home remembers opening the door to Madeline’s room, and then it was as if she were looking in a mirror at her own reflection."
"Is Madeline dangerous?" Jarod asked half afraid of hearing the answer.
"I have to call Mr. Parker," Sydney began.
"You haven’t answered my question, Sydney. Is Madeline working for the Centre?"
Sydney looked at Jarod in surprise, "How could you think such a thing? Mr. Parker kept her away from all that. And, after hearing this, I see why. Imagine the ramifications, Jarod. Someone who can take on any identity could prove to be very useful..."
"I wonder what caused her to leave," Jarod mused. He sat at the table leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him. Moira always referred to him as a praying mantiss when he sat that way. It was a force of habit done without thinking much like eating pez while finishing up a real humdinger of a sting.
"I really should call Mr. Parker," Sydney repeated.
The kitchen door opened causing both men to look up.
"Don’t let me disturb you," a strange voice hissed.
"Madeline?" Jarod asked awestruck at the striking similiarities between the woman standing before him and his wife.
"Hello, Jarod," Madeline hissed, "I’ve come to help."
Jarod inwardly shuddered hearing the same menace apparent in the young woman’s voice that had always been evident in Raines’ breathless rasp whenever the old man addressed him. Her eyes held him transfixed, "How did you get here?"
Madeline stepped foward meeting Jarod halfway, "That’s not important. I came to help."
Sydney sighed. The game was now in play.
HARRIET TASHMAN’S FARM
UTICA, NY
The house hadn’t changed. It was exactly the way he remembered it. It was the only thing he had held onto. The voice in his head was gone leaving him hollow, alone, and scared. What had he done? He didn’t want to ask himself that question. He knew the answer. The vivid images of the dead women, the women he killed plagued him. How had he sunk this low? What brought him to this place? Deep down he knew what brought him here. It was the last place, he saw his brother, and it was the only place he knew he could come to.
He felt small even though he had to hunch down to enter the loft. He still had trouble believing that his parents actually hid in such a cramped place for almost three years while they searched for the two little boys that were stolen away from them.
"Desperate people do desperate things, Kyle."
Kyle turned startled, "Harriet?"
Harriet came foward embracing the tall man allowing him to cry into her shoulder, "It’s okay. It’s going to be okay."
Kyle gasped, "You shouldn’t be here. I’m dangerous. I killed those women."
"It’s okay," Harriet repeated, "You weren’t yourself. You’re okay now."
Kyle collapsed finding himself on the small bed. He struggled to stay awake, but the stress of the constant running won out, and then the nightmares came. He was back at the Centre running from the women he had killed. Everywhere he turned they were there staring at him with their dead eyes accusing him with gaping mouths.
Look at what you did to us, Kyle. See what death has done.
In his dream, he tried to reason with them. He tried to tell them how sorry he was, but the words never left his lips. He was mute against the shrieking women. He grew to dread sleep, and at the Centre, he travelled the lonely corridors hearing voices that were no longer there. He would have stayed there hiding in the lower levels had it not been for Maya. Over the chorus of shrieking and cursing, her voice was the one he heard the loudest. It was her voice he heard just as he was about to jump to a certain death from the roof of the Centre. It was her voice that brought him back from the brink of the abyss. She saved his life, so he could save others. He understood that now, and the dead women simply watched him making sure he kept to his mission.
The sound of a woman sobbing woke him. He sat up wiping the sleep out of his eyes. She was hunched over rocking as she sobbed. He went to her feeling overcome by her anguish. He reached out to her wanting to smooth away her tears, and then she looked up at him. He drew back afraid, "Why have you come here?"
"Please! Help me," the pretender’s wife begged, "I can’t reach him. I..."
"Wait, Moira! Don’t fade.." Kyle yelled, but it was too late. Moira was gone leaving him standing in the middle of the loft cold and alone.
"Why did she come to him when she could have gone to Jarod?" he asked himself, "Why couldn’t she reach him? She was at Lynnwood with that quack Vestes. She could just pick up the phone unless she was..."
He didn’t want to think that. As much as he resented her, he couldn’t hate her. She loved Jarod. For two years he watched her as she took the boys to school. The older boy, Jamie, looked like Jarod. The younger boy, John, looked like her. He saw how she teased them good-naturedly. He yearned to be part of that. He wanted his own family. He wanted Maya. He wanted the baby she carried. He didn’t care if it wasn’t his. It was a child, and it deserved to be loved. It was too late now. Too many terrible things had happened, and now he was alone.
"It’s never too late. You can save them."
Kyle stared out the window watching the familiar Ford Explorer pull into the driveway. He watched silently as the doors opened, his brother, Sydney, Broots, and Moira got out. As they got closer to the barn, he saw the woman wasn’t Moira, but a woman who looked like her. He tried to run, but she caught sight of him staring at her from the window. She seemed to nod at him, and then he felt strong arms tackling him from behind.
"Don’t move, Kyle," Jarod growled angrily.
Kyle nodded, "Thank God you’ve come. I can save them."
"Leave him alone, Jarod," Madeline growled pulling the angry pretender away from Kyle.
"Kyle is a dangerous man, Madeline. He’ll hurt you," Jarod said regaining his composure forcing himself to take deep breaths in an attempt to control the rage that was always just under the surface.
"I won’t hurt her," Kyle said thickly. He looked at his brother’s face searching for the friend he once knew, "I never wanted to hurt them."
"Madeline says you can help us, is that true?" Jarod asked sarcastically.
"He knows the layout of the London office, don’t you, Kyle?" Madeline said almost quietly looking at the two men.
"Yes," Kyle nodded, "I can save them."
Jarod snorted angrily, "You’re making a mistake, Maddy. This monster is not to be trusted. He’s a sociopath. He enjoys tormenting his victims before finally killing them. Isn’t that right, Kyle? You enjoy hurting people."
Kyle looked away, "I can’t change what I’ve done, Jarod. I wish I could..."
"You make me sick. I would have done anything for you. I risked my life for you," Jarod said thickly.
"You should have let me die. It would have been so much easier," Kyle said barely above a whisper.
"Enough! I don’t want to hear another word from either of you," Madeline hissed, "We have work to do."
Jarod nodded slowly as he helped Kyle up. He avoided his younger brother’s eyes. He would have liked nothing better than to take Kyle down, but he knew Madeline was right. Kyle was the only one who knew the layout of the London office.
"Is she always like this?" Kyle asked as he climbed into the explorer.
"Usually, she’s worse," Jarod said almost smiling.
**********************************************************************************************
THE CENTRE
MARYLAND BRANCH
SALISBURY, MD
Moira slept soundly for the first time in six weeks. There were no midnight "question and answer" sessions, and the bed she slept on was a far cry from the soiled mattresses she was forced to sleep on in Montana. At least now she could sleep unmolested. Six weeks without significant sleep had taken its toll on her. Her vibrant blue eyes were now dull and glassy as if drugged. She tried to focus on what she knew, and what she could remember, but head seemed to cloud whenever she tried too hard. "A good night’s sleep would serve her well," she thought as she stretched her tired and cramped legs.
Her face felt stiff almost as if it were pulled taught. She raised her hand gingerly touching her forehead. Her hand brushed up against gauze, and then she remembered why she was sleeping so well. They did something to her. She heard Jonas arguing with another man, and then a nurse came in putting something into her I.V. She didn’t remember much after that, except...except...
"You remember me, Miss Parker. I know you do. I sure remember you."
The words had been muffled sounding far away, but she knew the voice. She knew the malice in them, and then everything seemed to slip away from her until now. She fingered the gauze on her head curiously trying to remember what it was she heard Jonas arguing about. He had mentioned something about a transmittor, a neuro-transmitter, and then something exploded in her head sending with it a jolt of pain that seemed to awaken every nerve in her body, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out as the knuckles on her hands grew white from gripping the sides of the bed.
Lyle watched her through the plexi-glass window smiling as he examined the small remote responsible for activating the ENPC-12. He smiled seeing the effect pushing one of the buttons had on the once sleeping woman. "Jonas could keep his coercian and brain gravy, but he had something that would get results quickly," Lyle thought. Patience wasn’t what the Tower wanted. They wanted results. They wanted complete and total surrender, and Miss Parker would surrender, and then she would bring in Jarod, and everyone would live happily ever after, except Jarod, that is. He would be re-educated, and then things would be as they were before.
"She’s a tough customer," Brigitte said quietly, "I’m not so sure that thing will get the results you’re looking for, Luv."
"Miss Parker has to be taught a lesson in respect," Lyle said angrily.
Brigitte pulled Lyle towards her forcing him to look into her eyes, "This personal vendetta of yours is what got us here, Luv. If you had been patient and waited, Jarod would have been returned to us long ago. He’d be doing whatever it is Pretenders do, but you had to rush..."
"I was getting results! I would have had the bastard!"
"Lower your voice, man! Do you want the whole place up in arms. As it stands now, those brats you refer to the "New Breed," are already suspicious. They know she’s here, Lyle. They can sense her, and God help us all if she finds them," Brigitte whispered quickly.
"Why is everyone here so afraid of Miss Parker? What can she do? She doesn’t look so frightening now, does she?" Lyle sneered.
"Before our friend, Raines, died, he seemed to become very chummy with Miss Parker. Why do you think that was, Luv? What did those two talk about?"
"Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me, Brigitte?"
"Hiding something? Me? Why would I do that?" Brigitte laughed nervously.
Lyle pushed the petite blond against the wall holding her by the throat, "If you have something to say, woman, say it!"
"Get your hands off me, Mr. Lyle. I’m not some bimbo you can push around, " Brigitte said venomously.
"I will not be toyed with," Lyle growled allowing the blond cleaner to move away from him.
Brigitte scowled angrily, "If you’re not careful, Luv, that’s exactly what will become of you."
"Are’nt you forgetting something, Brigitte?" Lyle sneered holding up the remote, "Who’s pushing the buttons, Brigitte? Who’s in control?"
"If you were so in control, Mr. Lyle, you wouldn’t need that remote. What is it, Luv? Does being so close to Miss Parker frighten you?"
"You think I’m frightened, Brigitte? You think Miss Parker scares me?"
Brigitte gazed into Lyle’s eyes for a moment before she spoke attempting to find the man she once loved instead finding a stranger, "People have a way of self-destructing around her, Wes. I just don’t want that to happen to you."
"I’m a big boy, Brigitte. Miss Parker doesn’t scare me. I won’t self-destruct around her."
Brigitte frowned, "Just be careful, okay?"
Lyle gave Brigitte a lopsided "aw shucks" grin, "I’m always careful, Brigie."
Brigitte waited until Lyle reached the end of the corridor leading towards the atrium before opening the door to Miss Parker’s room. Moira regarded her wearily. Brigitte reached into her pocket witdrawing a syringe, "A gift from Dr. Jonas, Miss Parker. I’m sorry it took so long."
Moira continued to watch the cleaner as she expertly administered the medicine into her I.V. If she wasn’t in so much pain, Moira would have overpowered the smaller woman. There was no love lost between them, and this made Moira question why Brigitte would want to help her. "She had to be up to something," Moira thought, "Brigitte never did anything that didn’t suit her own needs. What would she have to gain from helping her?"
"You’ll feel better soon, Luv," Brigitte said smiling. She was turning to go when Moira grabbed hold of her hand.
Moira stared into Brigitte’s eyes searching through a jumble of tangled thoughts and images. She was about to say something when she caught a brief glimpse of Brigitte carrying two toddlers from what looked like Jack’s house, and then she caught sight of a black sedan and two small faces pressed up against the window looking out as the car lurched forward spraying water and mud in its wake. Moira stifled a moan realizing what she saw. They had her children. They had Jenna and Justin, and now they had her. Moira’s lip trembled as she gathered her strength. She had to be careful. She couldn’t risk angering the cleaner.
"Thanks, Brigitte," Moira said softly, "You’re very kind."
Brigitte smiled, "It’s like they say...’we women have to stick together.’"
"Precisely," Moira nodded. Inwardly she was petrified whatever it was they wanted with Justin and Jenna would ultimately lead to Jarod’s capture. They had something he would give up his freedom for. They had his family, and nothing was more important to Jarod than the safety of his family. He once vowed he would die if anything were to happen to her. When he first said it, Moira was frightened by the cold resolve Jarod’s eyes. It was after the nastiness with Emile, Moira made him promise not to come to her rescue should she be captured by the Centre. They had argued heatedly, but in the end he promised to walk away, forget her, and go on with the rest of his life.
Her last thought before the pain killers pulled her under was that Jarod wouldn’t keep his promise. He couldn’t walk away. "It’s what those bastards counted on," Moira sighed miserably.
**********************************************************************************************
Jarod gripped the steering wheel tightly as he pushed the Explorer as fast as she could go. He couldn’t explain the feelings of urgency that had been pushing him since they had left New York. Nothing made sense anymore. All he could think of was Moira. He thought he had lost her, but the other night when the others were sleeping, he found himself unable to fall asleep, and then he saw her. She stood at the foot of his bed watching him. He knew then she wasn’t enroute to London, but rather somewhere close.
"Where did they take you, Moira?" he heard himself whisper.
"What’s that?" Sydney asked quietly.
"Nothing. I must have been thinking out loud," Jarod said fixing his eyes on the road before him.
"Jarod, I want to help," Sydney began, "I don’t see how driving like a maniac is going to help us find Moira and the children."
"Jarod, " Kyle said thickly, "I know you don’t want to listen to me, but I..."
"You’re right, Kyle. I don’t want to listen to you," Jarod sneered.
"For Christ sake, Jarod! Kyle’s right. We’re just spinning our wheels here. Do you even know where we are? We just keep driving aimlessly..." Broots said in frustration.
Jarod slammed on the brakes causing the Explorer to skid before finally stopping a few feet from going over the embankment. Before anybody could stop him, he was out of the car running. He couldn’t hear the others yelling at him to come back. All he could hear was his own frantic breathing as he ran until he couldn’t run anymore, and then he was on his knees covering his face with his hands sobbing until he felt arms encircling his waist.
"Come on, Jarod. It’s time to go back."
Jarod got up slowly, "What if..."
"Shush. We can’t think like that."
"I can’t live without her, Madeline. I can’t..."
Madeline pulled Jarod’s face toward hers allowing him to look into her eyes, "She’ll always be with you."
Jarod tried to pull away, "I can’t find her anymore."
"Jarod!," Madeline said sharply pulling Jarod back, "You’re not looking in the right place."
For a moment Jarod stood transfixed staring into Madeline’s eyes. He never realized how much they resembled Moira’s, and then Madeline seemed to disappear leaving him gazing into the face of his wife, "Moira?"
"I’m right here, Jarod. I’m right here."
Jarod pulled the woman towards him embracing her, "Oh, thank God! I thought I lost you."
Madeline allowed herself to be held until the familiar fear of human contact started to return, and then she tried to pull away. It was too much. The feelings, the emotions were too overwhelming, "Please, let me go."
Jarod allowed her to pull free, "I’m sorry. I didn’t know."
"It’s okay. I feel things too much."
Jarod struggled with his natural instinct to reach out to Madeline. He felt her anguish, her fear, and her deep sense of loneliness. He knew what it was to be lonely, to be afraid, and to be cut off from the outside world. Seeing the solitary woman walking beside him stirred in him a deep sense of regret. When he was on the run, he had been as solitary never once allowing himself to stay long enough to let people in. It was too scary. What if the people he helped didn’t like what they saw? He was always good at examining other people’s feelings. And, now looking at Madeline, Jarod felt empty. When he first touched Madeline, it was as if he were touching Moira. He could feel her in Madeline somehow, and now all traces of Moira were gone.
"For a moment I thought you were Moira," Jarod said softly allowing his eyes to linger for a moment on the young woman’s face.
Madeline smiled sadly nodding, "I was."
A cold chill went through Jarod as he watched Madeline walk ahead of him. There was something not right here. The old watchfullness from years of looking over his shoulder had suddenly and unmistakenly returned. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to take Madeline at face value, but there was something hidden inside that closed off mind.
Madeline continued to smile wistfully feeling the Pretender’s eyes watch her as she walked towards the Explorer. The others seemed restless, except for the old man. He returned her gaze with his own. In her mind she heard him say something.
"Be very careful where you tread, Madeline. Moirranda is not one to be trifled with."
Madeline nodded silently as she reclaimed her seat in the back of the Explorer. She watched morosely as the Explorer made its way back to the road, and the world that had always been so static suddenly swept by her making her homesick for the home. It was safe at the home. The noise from the outside world didn’t seem as loud, but now, even the soft crackle of the radio as the stations faded became almost unbearable. She wanted quiet. She wanted things to be as they were; uncomplicated. Madeline leaned up against the seat stretching her long legs out in front of her as she continued gazing at the disappearing houses.
"You can help me. I know you want to, don’t you? Helping people makes you feel good..."
Madeline stifled a small gasp seeing the familiar face reflected in the window beside her.
"No one can see or hear me. It’s just you and me."
"No..." Madeline sobbed.
"It’s only for a little while, Sis. I just want to be real. I need to be real. I need to be. Our sister’s life depends on it. Please, Maddy."
"I don’t trust you. You hurt me..."
"I hurt a lot of people. I’m sorry for it. God knows, I’m paying for it big-time. Ever since the return of the Scarman, no one’s allowed to rest. The dead are working over-time trying to keep up with him. I never knew your father to be so tireless..."
"You saw him? Where?" Madeline beamed remembering the sad quiet man who sat with her in the day room. He didn’t speak much. She didn’t care. He was dying, and he needed someone to be with, someone who didn’t know enough to hate him. At first, he came with the other man, the man the nurses called, Mr. P, and then he came on his own bringing her gifts. He wanted her to love him the way a daughter should love her father, but most of all, he wanted her to forgive him. He never did tell her what he did. He was going to, and then one day he stopped coming.
What brought her to this place, this nightmare, was a plea for help. She was in bed staring up at the ceiling when she heard the familiar squeak of the oxygen tank as it drew closer to her room. She knew he was dead, but it didn’t change what she saw. He stood in the doorway waiting for her to invite him in.
"Madeline..." the figure wheezed softly, "Madeline, she needs you. Go to her. Find the Pretender. He’ll help you."
She had thrown back the bed sheets, but he was gone before her foot touched the floor. She stood in the middle of her room looking out towards the large parking lot. In the moonlight, she saw a car pull into a space, and then a woman got out quickly slamming the door loudly. The shifts were changing. The woman from the parking lot was late. Madeline heard her thoughts as the woman ran.
Damn! Damn! I can’t believe that son of a bitch! He knows I have to be at work. Why is it that now has to be the time for one of his "family meetings?" Doesn’t he care that I can’t be late again? Doesn’t he realize how important my job is to me?
The harried woman’s thoughts faded out of range, and then they grew close again. Madeline heard the entrance doors swing open, and then someone was running.
"You’re late, Mary Margaret," the head nurse almost in a whisper.
"I’m sorry, Nurse Cray, " Mary Margaret whispered as she began her rounds.
Madeline stood waiting as the door to her room opened. The nurse was bending down to retrieve something off her cart when Madeline approached her.
Madeline spoke quickly forcing the young woman to look into her eyes, "This is all a dream. You will remember nothing. You will remember nothing."
Madeline had nodded to the head nurse as she left, "I have to leave now. You’re friend will be all right in the morning. You understand, Wendy. You’re a good girl."
"I hated lying too."
Madeline trembled. She was tired, and she was afraid, "Please, I can’t. It’s too much, too soon."
"I can teach you to controll it, Madeline."
"I don’t need your help," Madeline said pulling away from the woman sitting next to her, "Leave me alone. I’m tired."
"I’m getting weaker, Madeline. They did something to me. They put something in my head. I think I’m going to die. I feel myself slipping..."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Let Maya help you. It’s the only way. We have to stick together."
Madeline nodded, "Yeah, we’re the three twisted sisters."
**********************************************************************************************
Salisbury, MD
Centre Medical Wing
Moira laughed in her sleep still hearing Madeline’s joke. The laugh sounded alien to her. It was almost as if it came from someone else. She must have been dreaming again. Whatever it was they did to her made it harder for her to stay focused. Her mind looked for any means available to free itself from the pain. During the night when it was quiet, Moira allowed herself to cry. The pain had become so intense that she wanted to die, but the thought of leaving her children in the hands of a madman helped her focus her mind on the dreams she kept having.
In her dreams, she was well and happy. The twins, Justin and Jenna, laughed at Jarod as he made funny faces at them. Sydney would always be reading one of his journals, and Dante would be sleeping on her foot. When the pain became too intense, Moira clung to these dreams. They gave her hope for the future, but most of all they allowed her to forget where she was. They allowed her to remain sane and in control when those around her raged at their inability to rile her. They expected her to get angry. They looked forward to seeing her lose her composure, but instead she would sit staring at the board of interrogators blankly while they questioned her repeatedly regarding her involvement in the disappearance of several of the Centre’s subjects.
She didn’t know what they were talking about. She had little to do with the children that always seemed to be underfoot at the Centre. As far as she was concerned, Jarod was her assignment. The strange children she caught glimpses of were simply "lab rats" in training. She explained this over and over to the board, but they refused to believe her, and now the interrogation sessions were turning into torture sessions, and it was her fantasies of being home with Jarod and the children that prevented her from giving in to the urge to just float away into the darkness where even Jarod wouldn’t be able to find her.
Moira lay staring at the wall thinking. The dull pounding in her head prevented her from going back to sleep. She had been dreaming again, but this time the dream wasn’t a dream. She had allowed herself to drift into the vortex beyond the pain. She saw herself standing on a road and Jarod was running, and a woman who she knew only as the Secret Keeper was following him. She never saw the Secret Keeper’s face, and then suddenly the young woman had turned beckoning Moira to come to her.
"He needs to know you’re still with him."
And then it was like something out of a fairy tale feeling Jarod’s strong arms encircling her waiste. Seeing his brown eyes light up made her forget that the body she was in was not hers, and the old fire that always burned in her was now suddenly rekindled. She wanted to feel him hard against her, she wanted to smell him in her hair, but most of all she wanted to feel the warmth of another body lying naked next to her instead of the lonliness of the cold hospital bed. She would have given anything to stay, but the body she was in was not hers, and the young woman who had allowed her in was now overwelmed by the feelings Moira and Jarod had for each other. She pulled herself away thanking the young woman for allowing her to feel again. Moira vowed that whoever this young woman was, she would do something to help her. She owed her that much.
Moira took a deep breath letting it out slowly. The pain that had started at the base of her neck had now found its way to her back and legs. He was close. She sensed him even before was within range of the transmitter. Moira frowned thinking of the transmitter and what it represented. "It was always like the Centre to keep tabs on everything, especially their major cash cows," Moira thought bitterly closing her eyes as the dull throbbing in her head grew sharper.
"No," she moaned, "Oh God...Please, somebody help me."
She heard movement behind her, and then someone was touching her hair. She made a move to turn, but a sharp shooting pain kept her still, "It hurts...It hurts..."
"Angelo make it better. Daughter sad...Daughter hurt."
Moira let herself relax, "Angelo? What are you doing here? You can’t stay. He’ll find you."
"Jarod friend. Daughter friend, " the empath said softly, "Angelo help friends."
Moira stiffled a low moan, "Angelo, listen to me. You have to leave. The bad man is coming..."
"The bad man afraid of Angelo. Only Angelo know bad man’s fear. Angelo feel it once," the empath whispered, "Angelo know what happen to baby Wesley."
Moira reached up slowly finding Angelo’s hand. She held it seeing an image of a young child standing on what looked like a wooded walkway. He was crying, and his mother was calling out to him telling him she was coming, and then she was being shoved aside while men in dark suits surrounded the little boy.
"Timmy gone, Wesley gone," the empath cried.
Moira squeezed Angelo’s hand, "It’s okay."
"Angelo make it better. Angelo help friends."
Moira nodded thinking of Justin and Jenna. They were the same age Jarod was when he was first brought to the Centre. She grew rigid with fear thinking about what they would do to her babies. She had to find a way to get them out of here.
"I need you to help me, Angelo. They have my children. I want you to get them out of here," Moira whispered frantically, "Get them to safety."
Angelo smiled, "Old Doctor like children."
"Old Doctor?" Moira asked confused, "You mean, Dr. Jonas?"
Angelo nodded, "Old Doctor afraid children get hurt. Ask Angelo to take children to safe place. Angelo like children. Little boy laugh. Little girl sad. Miss her Mommy. Angelo promise. Angelo help Mommy."
Moira smiled sadly, "Angelo’s a good man."
The empath beamed, "Angelo like Daughter. Daughter always help children. Always help Angelo."
Moira nodded weakly. Her head was pounding again, "He’s coming, Angelo. Run!"
The empath needed no warning. He was already pulling the air vent covering back into place even before the bad man entered the medical wing. He wasn’t afraid of the bad man. The bad man wouldn’t hurt him. The bad man was afraid of what Angelo knew, and this fear kept him away. Angelo hoped this fear would keep him away long enough to get Daughter to safety. He sensed her weakening. He could hear the strange voices in the darkness calling her to join them. If he didn’t get her to safety, she would disappear the same way he did. He didn’t want that to happen.
"Daughter was his friend. Daughter gave him toy surprise. Daughter help Angelo. Angelo help Daughter," the empath repeated as he ran through the maze of air ducts until he came to a break in the duct work. He pulled aside the opening careful to replace it after he was through it, and carefully made his way through a long tunnel that once connected the Centre’s Medical wing to what was once a make shift barracks for Centre doctors and staff. The barracks were long forgotten along with the underground tunnel that joined the buildings. Angelo felt safe here. Late at night when all was quiet, he could hear the sounds of children playing. They laughed as they called out to each other. Their voices were hollow and etherial, and Angelo found comfort in their play. Even in death, the Centre couldn’t take away what it was that made them children. It was their triumph, and his biggest sorrow.
The little boy he once was died leaving behind a freak, a freak regulated to a life of torment. He couldn’t exist in the outside world. There were too many feelings, too many people with too many feelings. He couldn’t make sense of it. He sat down heavily on one of the old cots and began to hum. Humming made him feel better. It helped with the fear. When things at the Centre went crazy as they often did, Angelo hid in one of the air vents until the running footsteps quieted. He knew it was safe to return when the only sound he heard was his own frantic heartbeat.
Angelo closed his eyes remembering what it was like to feel Daughter’s arms around him when the feelings became too overwhelming. She smoothed away his hair as she soothed his broken mind with a voice he could only describe as being music. Daughter had a way of making things make sense. She was the only one aside from Jarod who he adopted as friend.
"Angelo, She needs your help! Quick! Find Jarod..."
Angelo looked up, "Find Jarod. Jarod friend. Jarod help Angelo."
"You know how to reach him..."
The empath sprang like a trained panther running towards the end of the barricks. In the corner of the room caddy-cornered against the wall was Angelo’s link to the outside world. The empath reached down flipping the switch on the power box smiling as the computer booted up. He giggled as the machine went through its elaborate routine designed to frustrate even the best hacker. Jarod may be good at pretending, but Angelo’s true calling was his love of computers, and what they could do for him. They kept him close to the outside world without the messy feelings that often went along with it. The computers also allowed him to keep in touch with Jarod. They proved invaluable on several occasions often giving Jarod enough time to make his getaway when the Sweepers began closing in. He only hoped Jarod would be near his laptop. Daughter was in trouble.
Angelo typed frantically waiting for the Pretender to respond. Finally, after the third e-mail address, Angelo grew frustrated. There had to be some way of reaching Jarod, and then Angelo swore at his own stupidity. He had all of Jarod’s e-mail addresses entered in his address book. Quickly he selected the whole address book, and typed in his message sending it out immediately when he was done. Now, Jarod would have no excuse not to respond unless... Angelo didn’t want to think about it. There was no time to think about it. He had to get Daughter to safety.
**********************************************************************************************
Ex-Centre Offices
Blue Cove, DE
"I don’t like it, Sydney. Coming back to this place, this hell hole!"
"Jarod, Skinner knows what he’s doing. There was a reason Nesbitt came back here. Now, we just have to find it."
Jarod stared off into the vast marble entranceway that had once held the Centre offices. It seemed unchanged, except for the dust. The dust covered everything making the abandoned building look even more threatening.
"There are too many memories here. Too many bad things happened within these walls. I don’t know if I can stay here, Syd. I don’t know how you can."
"I would like to think not all of those memories were bad, Jarod. You fell in love within these walls..."
"A lot of people died within these walls. I can’t do this," Jarod said thickly, "I can’t stay here. The feelings, the memories are too painful."
Sydney frowned. He understood how Jarod felt. He felt the same overwhelming sense of grief when they opened the door to the Centre. It was as if they had opened the door to a past wound, and now having to stay locked inside the Centre’s fortress type walls was akin to pouring acid into an already festering wound.
"We’re close, Jarod. Angelo’s message originated out of a location near the Centre’s Maryland branch. Broots is confident we’ll be able to find out where Moira and the children are being kept."
"I still don’t understand why I can’t answer. He’s frantic, Syd. He must think I don’t care. What’s the point of scaring Angelo like that. He needs to know we know where he is, and that help is on the way."
"There’s no way to guarantee our message won’t be intercepted. You know how paranoid Lyle can be. Hell, I taught him that," Parker said morosely.
At the mention of Lyle’s name, Jarod stiffened, "I should have killed that bastard myself."
"He’s like an eel, that Lyle," Mr. Parker said hoarsely. The stress of his daughter’s disappearance had begun to take its toll. His blue eyes had dark circles under them. He spent his nights pacing trying to think of ways to bargain with Lyle. He would do anything to get her back.
"Any news, Parker?" Jarod asked thickly.
"Those bastards at the FBI won’t tell me a damn thing. They got this place tighter than a drum. It’s like the old days at the Centre when we used to go to lockdown."
"You miss it, don’t you, Parker?"
"Miss what, Jarod? Do I miss being the one calling the shots? Yes, I do. I hate being told what to do. But if you’re asking me if I miss being at the Centre, than my answer would be no. I hated the Centre and everything it stood for. Catherine was right. Working for the Centre is a death sentence."
Jarod bit back a sarcastic laugh, "Excuse me, I find it hard to stomach this holier than thou attitude, Parker. You stole me from my parents, turned your daughter into a basketcase, and now you expect me to believe the shit you’re shoveling?"
"I know you hate me, Jarod. I know Moira hates me. I used to see it in her eyes whenever she came to visit me. She couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me, but I still loved her. I guess when you’re as sick as I am, even hate is better than nothing."
Jarod struggled to contain his anger, but hearing Parker refer to Moira in the past tense was the last straw. He turned fist clenched swinging catching the older man square in the face knocking him to the floor. Jarod continued to pummel the old man until strong arms held him back.
"Jarod! That’s enough! One day this anger is going to be your undoing."
"Get your hands off me, Sydney! She’s not dead, you fucking bastard! You hear me? She’s not dead," Jarod panted, "She’s not dead, Sydney. I would know it. I would know it, wouldn’t I?"
Mr. Parker got to his feet steadying himself against the wall, "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right, Jarod..."
Sydney continued holding on to the Pretender prepared for another onslaught, "I think we’ve heard enough from you, Mr. Parker. If you don’t mind, Jarod and I are going to settle in. We had a long trip, and we’re all on edge."
Mr. Parker nodded, "I understand, Sydney. Of course, we all need to relax. I just wish this thing would be over."
Jarod stared dully at Parker, "This thing would have been over a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you, Parker. You had to protect your little girl from the past. You had to stop her from remembering, isn’t that right, Mr. Parker?"
"You have no idea how much pressure I was under back then. I was between a rock and a hard place..."
"It’s always about you, isn’t it, Parker? Just what exactly did you do to her to make her so afraid. Did you know Moira can’t sleep unless there’s at least one light on? Imagine that? A grown woman afraid of the dark," Jarod hissed angrily.
Parker regarded the Pretender wearily. He wondered how much Jarod knew about Moira’s childhood. He wondered how much Moira remembered. She was so young, so innocent. It made him sick thinking about what went on in that cold root cellar. He was thankful Catherine had been there to stop him before he was able to finish. He wasn’t himself then. He blamed it first, on the stress of the project. He couldn’t take it. He told himself he could stop anytime. He would just have one drink to take the edge off, and then one drink became two, and then he lost count.
"You have to get help. If you don’t do it for me, at least do it for Moira."
Parker sighed remembering the heated argument he and Catherine had as they waited in the hospital lounge as the Centre’s doctors worked on Moira. She had been lucky. She needed 17 stitches to close the wound on her head, but she was going to be okay, or so he thought. He should have been relieved when she first started acting weird. At least he had an excuse to exclude her from the Project, but her strangeness had scared him. She used to hide in her closet claiming she was talking to her angel. She called him Andy. Parker hated hearing about angels, but he would sit patiently listening blaming himself for his part in her robbing her of her innocense. Moira never spoke of what she saw while she was under. That’s what they called it. He learned how to do it so as not to leave a mark, but that one time...He was drunk, and they wanted results.
Moira was so young, so lost sitting in that chair while he placed the electrodes on her head. She cried silently afraid of not being a good girl, and he had slipped jabbing one of the metal wires into her scalp. She had cried out, and he hit her hard across the face silencing her at once. He hated himself afterwards. He had no idea the damage he had caused. It was no wonder Moira had refused to go down the cellar stairs. He thanked God for Catherine, and for Ben Miller who had been there for Moira after she came home from the hospital. Ben understood her. He understood about the angels. He also understood Moira’s abilities, and the importance of keeping them secret. No one at the Centre could ever know about his treasure.
"Give her time, Mr. Parker. She has to learn everything over again. Brain injuries are very tricky. Sometimes it takes years for improvement, and sometimes, well, you know children. They are very resilient."
He counted on her never remembering. He thanked God when she was finally well enough to return to school. She needed to be around girls her own age. Parker smiled remembering how adorable his little angel looked in her school uniform. He pictured her smiling full of spunk. He wanted to remember her that way rather than the queer look she gave him the last time he saw her. She was sitting on the porch when he pulled up. The twins, Jenna and Justin, were playing at her feet. As he approached, she looked up at him watching him the way a wolf watches her cubs. He saw the warning, and entertained the thought of turning around, but the front door opened revealing a young woman. Moira had summoned her to take the twins inside before turning towards him. The silence between them was uncomfortable, and Parker hated it. He was about to speak when she spoke.
"What brings you here?"
"I wanted to see my little girl. How are you, Angel?"
She looked at him coldly, "I’m fine."
He ignored the edge in her voice, "Are you eating enough? You seem thinner."
"It’s the new meds. I can’t keep a damn thing down," Moira told him.
He looked at her concerned, "Meds? Are you sick?"
"Yeah, Daddy, I’m sick. I’m sick of being in pain. I’m sick of the stiffness in my joints. I’m sick of the physical therapy, but most of all, I’m sick of your sanctimonious self-serving pity."
"You don’t mean that, Moiranda. I care very deeply for you. If you’d only give me a chance..."
"The same chance you gave my sister?"
"I’m not proud of what I did. In time, you’ll understand...."
"Understand? Understand why you took her away from me. She was my twin, and you drove her away the same way you drove Mother away. You said once you killed her. I believe that, Daddy. You may not have been the one who pulled the trigger, but you killed her just the same, and for that I will never forgive you."
"Damn it, Moira! Stop this childish behavior at once. It’s not attractive."
"Get off my property. You’re no longer welcome in my home."
"You’re crazy! Those doctors were right. You are crazy. I’m only trying to help you, and this is what I get."
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" she screamed charging at him making him step back.
She had resembled the wolf again. Her eyes had a wide, crazed look about them. Catherine had the same look in her eyes when she was angry. The past had a way of coming back to you. He was losing her. She would never trust him, and right now Parker needed her to trust him. He was dying, and she was the only family he had. He had decided standing on that front porch listening to his daughter scream at him that he had to do something, and that something involved kidnapping Moira away from Jarod, than so be it. He got back in his car blaming Moira’s foolish behavior on the lies Jarod was feeding her. "Well, he would see to it that Jarod would be stopped. It wasn’t right for a daughter to turn on her father. It wasn’t right."
**********************************************************************************************
Centre Offices
Salisbury, MD
Moira felt him watching her as she lay trembling on the bed. The dull throbbing headache had become blinding. She felt herself being lifted, and then she was being placed onto the gurney that was to take her to where the T-Board was assembled. As the attendants fastened the wrist and ankle restraints, Moira let out a wimper knowing what was to come. She couldn’t take the constant stream of questions they threw at her. And, when she couldn’t answer them, the mind numbing pain would get worse until she screamed begging them to stop. She didn’t know what happened to the children, or to the money that had mysteriously disappeared from the Centre’s bank accounts in Zurich. There was also the question as to why all of the Centre’s assets were frozen. It seemed as though someone had the Centre on a very tight leash, and the leash was growing tighter, and Lyle was getting desperate, and desperate men were capable of committing murder. Something bad was going to happen, and someone was going to die.
"Please, don’t do this," she begged, "Please, I have money. I can pay you."
The attendants stood stone-faced watching her never speaking as they lifted her into the interrogation chair, a chair resembling the one Raines had placed Timmy, Danny, Maya, and all the other children who were unlucky enough to have Dr. Billy as their doctor. The leather straps cut into her skin leaving welts. It was useless to struggle. Moira calmly watched Lyle while bracing herself for yet another torture session.
"Are you ready to cooperate, Miss Parker?" Lyle asked smiling as he reached out to stroke her face.
Moira pulled away watching him out of the corner of her eyes, "Are you ready to go to Hell, Cowboy?"
"I take that as a no," Lyle said still smiling, "It’s such a shame a beautiful woman like yourself could be bought for so little."
"I guess that’s what you tell yourself to save face. The truth is, Lyle, my father may have believed your disappearance, but I sure as hell didn’t."
Lyle chuckled, "Your father always was too quick to make assumptions."
"So, who was the lucky victim?"
"No one of importance," Lyle said off-handedly.
Moira resisted the urge to snap. A human life was very important. People like Lyle placed little value in human life unless they could benefit from it. It was only self-preservation that drove them, and if that wasn’t enough, there was always the power they received from dominating those too helpless to fight back. She watched Lyle with his smug smile, and the hatred she had struggled to keep from choking her, suddenly came to the surface.
"The missing thumb was a nice touch, Cowboy," Moira sneered. Her voice oozing sarcasm.
"You think so?" Lyle said leaning in reaching to stroke Miss Parker’s face with his good hand.
"One problem, Cowboy," Moira smiled allowing Lyle to get closer to her, "The Centre’s back-up video surveillence camera shows it was your left thumb that was severed, but the body we pulled from the water was missing its right thumb. Can you explain what that was all about?"
Lyle stiffened quelling the anger her remark had stirred up in him. His lips grew taut turning his smile into a thin line, "I never could pull anything over on you, Miss Parker. You always were too quick for me. Everyone knows how smart you were, and yet you still couldn’t bring Jarod in. Care to explain why that was?"
Moira snickered, "You assumed my intention was to bring him in. Well, we all know what assuming does, don’t we, Bobby, or is it Wesley? I forget."
Lyle laughed humorously, "I guess that means we’re both asses then because you assume I want Jarod. I don’t need Jarod anymore, Miss Parker. I have something better. Wouldn’t you agree?"
Moira grimaced realizing the implications of Lyle’s remark. He had her twins, her miracle twins, or at least he thought he did. She had to keep it that way, "If you hurt my kids, Lyle, there will be no place on this earth for you to hide."
Lyle learned into Miss Parker almost close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on his face, "And, you assume you’ll live long enough to make good on your threat?"
"It doesn’t matter what I assume, Lyle. I know I won’t make it out of here alive. I accept that, but the real question is will Jarod? How long do you think you’ll last once he finds out I’m no longer alive?"
"Your husband doesn’t scare me, and neither do you," Lyle sneered grabbing Miss Parker’s throat suddenly bored with this game of cat and mouse, "Why don’t we just end this charade, here and now, Parker? Why don’t you tell me where you hid those children?"
Moira inhaled sharply feeling herself grow stiff with anger, "I all ready told you. I don’t know anything about hiding any children."
"You’re lying, Miss Parker. I know you hid them, and I want to know where," Lyle snarled tightening his hold on Miss Parker’s throat.
The room starting to spin as Moira struggled to catch her breath. He kept asking her the same question, and when she couldn’t answer, the vise like grip would close leaving her struggling to hold on, and then he would release his hold allowing her to breath. She felt herself begin to let go. It was easier. There was no pain, but there was a deep sense of sorrow, and then a familiar coldness began to seep into everything. She opened her eyes staring into the face of the madman and smiled. She didn’t see the madman anymore. He was her God, her release. He didn’t realize what he was giving her. He didn’t realize that by killing her, he was destroying himself. She, alone, knew what he searched for, and now he would never get it. He would die a horrible death made more horrible by never knowing how much he was missed. He wasn’t always bad. He was once an innocent who, like Jarod, was stolen away from a family who loved him. All Wesley Lyle ever wanted was to know who he was, and now he would never know.
When she woke, she could feel the warmth on her face from the Sun. She could hear the children playing in the distance. The sand felt warm under her feet as she made her way down towards the shore. The water came in fast breaking against the beach before receding back pulling loose chunks of sand from a half-ruined sand-castle. The water seemed to call her, and she began walking towards it wanting to feel its familiar coldness on her feet.
The water was up to her knees when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned seeing a familiar figure before her.
"Sydney? What are you doing here?"
"I’m here to take you back, Moirranda," the old man said softly.
Moira pulled away, "What if I don’t want to go back?"
"You can’t stay here. I know it’s peaceful and pleasant and easier, but there are others to consider," Sydney coaxed.
"I hurt," Moira said trembling, "I’m tired. I need to stay. I..."
She was fading. She stared at Sydney, "What’s happening? I can’t see you.. The door, it’s opening. Oh my God! Noooo! Nooooo...."
Blue Cove, DE
Sydney jerked awake drenched in sweat. "The door is opening." The words echoed through his mind almost drowning out thought, "The door is opening." He struggled to remember what it meant. He was with Moira on a beach, and then they were standing in a dark tunnel, and the door was opening. "Opening for whom?" he asked himself, "Where were they?"
"Sydney! Come quick!" Broots yelled frantically, "It’s Madeline. She’s locked herself in one of the rooms in SL-27."
"What the hell is she doing down there? I thought you told me they blocked it off," Sydney began.
"They did, but she’s down there..."
"Where’s Jarod?" Sydney asked as they made their way towards the underground tunnels, "I’m going to need his help. She’ll listen to him."
They heard the sounds of a woman screaming as soon as they were down inside the main entrance to SL-27. The screams were coming from room 155, Angelo’s old room, and the room where Raines performed his hideous experiments on the Centre’s subjects. Jarod was sitting outside the door trying to coax the woman out. His voice was strained from his efforts.
"Madeline, it’s me, Jarod. I want to help you. Please, let me in. I know how it feels. I know what it’s like to be afraid. I..." Jarod said swallowing hard remembering his own fear. He got up brushing the dust off his black jeans, "I can’t reach her. I tried."
"How long has she been down here?" Sydney asked frowning. He looked through the small opening seeing Madeline sitting up against the wall pounding the floor screaming. She was saying something, but her screaming made the words intelligible.
"She keeps mentioning something about a door. She says it’s opening. Do you know what that means, Sydney?"
"The door is opening," Sydney said softly.
"You heard that before," Jarod frowned, "What does it mean, Sydney?"
"Moira said the same thing before..."
Jarod turned quickly, "When?"
"I dreamed about her, Jarod. She said the same thing to me before she..." Sydney’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t say it. The water, the darkness, and the dark tunnel with the door opening at the end of it meant one thing to him, and he didn’t want to face it.
"What does it mean, Sydney?" Jarod repeated, "Tell me what it means."
"I can’t, " Sydney said thickly, "I don’t know."
From inside the room, Madeline grew quiet, and then she began to sob, "Don’t go through the doorway. Don’t go into the darkness. It’s cold in the darkness. The bad man lives in the darkness. Don’t go through the door..."
"What does she mean, Sydney? I know you know what she’s talking about."
"Jarod, please. I..."
"Sydney, listen to me," Jarod said looking into the older man’s eyes, "You have to trust me. I know there are a lot of things going on here. I know whatever it is goes far beyond the Pretender project."
"There’s a break in the time continuum. The darkness, I believe, is what separates the past, present, and future. It’s the walkway between these worlds, but he who attempts to cross over the time continium without proper preparation runs the risk of never returning forever remaining trapped in a glass vortex seeing only a distortion of things to come. He, who can manuever through the vortex, controls time. Things that were done can be undone," Broots said quietly.
Jarod looked at Broots and then at Sydney, "He who controls the past, controls the future."
Sydney glared at Brice. He wondered what Jarod would think if he were to find out he was riding around with an opportunist like Brice. The man thought nothing of taking over another man’s body and making it his own, "You can’t go backwards. Everything you do in the past whether it be simply stepping on an ant hill could have dire consequences for the future."
"Then what does it mean? ‘Things that were done can be undone."
"Think about it, Jarod, " Sydney said wearily, "The dreams you keep having. You said they felt real. You felt as though you’d lived them before."
"No, it’s not possible," Jarod gasped seeing an image of himself holding Moira in his arms as she lay bleeding to death. In his dream, he had killed her. He had brutally raped her, and then plunged a large hunting knife into her heart.
"It’s not true. I could never do that. I love her."
"I’m sorry, Jarod. I wish I could take this away, but you need to know the truth."
"You’re lying. You’re lying," Jarod yelled, "You always hated it that I loved Moira. You never wanted us to be together."
Sydney shook his head, "You know that’s not true. I love you, Jarod. I was happy when you two fell in love. It gave me hope."
"Hope for what, Syd? For the future? For better times?" Jarod snapped. His voice became hard.
"I didn’t choose this, Jarod. I never wanted it to happen."
"Why are you doing this, Sydney? How much is the Centre paying you?" Jarod growled menacingly.
"I have proof, Jarod. I didn’t want to do this, but it’s the only way."
Broots handed Sydney the DSA viewer. Sydney nodded as he set it up on one of the lab tables. He withdrew a DSA from his breast pocket and loaded it into the slot. He stepped back allowing the Pretender to press the play button.
The screen came to life at once. Jarod gasped in horror as he saw himself seated behind a desk dressed in an orange prison uniform. The Jarod from the DSA started to speak:
If you’re watching this, than thank God for small wonders. My name is Jarod, but you know that, don’t you? As you can tell, I have been arrested for a crime. If you don’t remember, orange uniforms are worn by murderers. I wear orange because I am a murderer. Three weeks ago, I killed my wife, Moira Parker, after brutally raping her. I took the knife my brother, Jack, gave me, and plunged it into the slut’s heart. I’m not sorry for what I did. You can’t know the pain and torment that woman caused me. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it sooner.
Jarod stood silently watching the DSA hitting the rewind button everytime it came to the end only to watch it over and over again. The dreams came back to him, "I don’t understand. Why? Why would I do that? I loved her, Syd."
Sydney pulled Jarod away from the viewer forcing the Pretender to face him, "The man in that DSA doesn’t exist anymore. We stopped him, Jarod. We saw the future, and we stopped it from happening. We were able to manuever through the walkway, but now..."
"Why? Why would I do that to her, Syd? I don’t understand," Jarod repeated allowing his voice to trail off hearing the familiar sound of a bolt being thrown back.
The door to room 155 opened. Madeline stood propped up against the doorway looking tired and haggard. Her eyes were unfocused, "You protected her memory. She loved you too much to be your undoing. She knew the bad one had come. He wanted you to kill her. He wanted it so bad, he would have stuck the knife in himself if he could have. He feeds on rage, on insecurity, on fear... She couldn’t let you destroy yourself, so she did the only thing she could to end it..."
"She killed herself. I always suspected as much," Sydney said thickly.
Jarod stood staring off into the distance. He should have been relieved. He wasn’t a murderer after all. He turned towards Madeline, "Who is the bad one, Madeline? You mentioned him earlier."
Madeline looked into the Pretender’s eyes, "He’s the one in your nightmares, the one who has no name, the one who was left behind."
Jarod turned to Sydney staring at the older man silently, "I used to have nightmares when I was younger. You called them night terrors, but I knew better. You never told me who he was, Syd. I asked you several times who the boy in the mirror was, and why he was so sad, but you always dismissed me. Why couldn’t you tell me who he was?"
"You remember that? You couldn’t have been more than 6 or 7. I thought you’d grow out of it."
"Who was he Syd? Was he from the Pretender Project?"
Broots looked at Sydney before speaking, "The Centre was built on the ruins of the Delaware State Insane Asylum. It was considered to be one of the best asylums in this part of the country, but during the 1800’s asylums were just holding places for the damned, poor creatures born hideously deformed left to die in a snake-pit. People used to come from all over to dump what they often called their "demon spawn," and the doctors here, well, let’s say, they weren’t too interested in patient rights. The boy you saw, the one left as an infant on the doorstep of this venerable place, grew up in in this misery. If he ever had a chance of leading a normal life, it was destroyed the day they carried him inside to the nursury."
"Why was he left here? Who would do that to a child?" Jarod asked. His voice grew thick, "How can someone do that to a child?"
Broots looked at Sydney again waiting for him to say something. The old man nodded encouraging Broots to continue.
"In those days, people were afraid of deformities, especially a deformity of this nature."
"What was wrong with him, Sydney? Why do they call him the bad one?"
Sydney sighed frowning, "You have to understand, Jarod. People of that age lived much of their lives in the dark. Anything strange was immediately destroyed. The bad one wasn’t bad to begin with. He had parents who loved him despite his appearance. "
"He was born without a face," Jarod said softly remembering his childhood dreams of a young boy who always shielded himself never once allowing Jarod to see his face.
"This place, this town, this nest of vipers," Sydney began, "They couldn’t understand, they couldn’t know how special he was. He was a gift."
"What happened to his parents? If they loved him, why did they bring him here?"
Sydney leaned back against the wall massaging his temple. There were too many memories here. There were too many souls trapped inside these walls waiting for the keeper of the secrets to return, "The town elders, a bunch of blind visionaries, accused the child’s parents of being witches. They cited the child’s deformity as being a sign of the devil."
Jarod stared blankly at Sydney. His voice was soft, "He vowed revenge. He cursed this place, this town, and its descendants..."
Madeline came forward grabbing Jarod’s arm pulling him towards her, "Don’t let him in. He wants you to feel sorry for him. He wants you to help him. He wants you to..."
"Madeline, Oh my God!" Sydney yelled catching her as she collapsed.
"What happened, Sydney?" Broots asked anxiously as the pretender and the doctor carried the comatose woman through the tunnel.
"We have to get her topside. I don’t think she’s breathing," Jarod said panting. He hoisted Madeline over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry while Sydney and Broots trailed behind trying to keep up with him.
Dr. Gallaway stood at the entrance to the medical wing, "I’ll get a gurney."
"Call a code, Dr., This woman’s in cardiac arrest."
Broots stared at Jarod in alarm, "Madeline’s going to be alright, isn’t she?"
From the doorway, Jarod watched as the doctor’s worked frantically on the dying woman. It didn’t make sense. She was fine, and then she was dead. A thought came to him. A memory that had long since been forgotten resurfaced. Beautiful, blond-haired Laura. Laura, the one who had walked on the "third highway." She once told him she would go into a deathlike trance while she was there. To the untrained eye, Laura was dead, clinically stone cold dead. Whatever it was, Jarod hoped he was right. Moira would never forgive him if he allowed Madeline to die.
"Gentlemen, I think I can take it from here," Jarod said walking into the trauma unit pushing Gallaway away from the comatose woman.
Dr. Gallaway nodded allowing the Pretender to take over.
"Madeline, I know you’re still in there. I want you to come back. It’s to risky for you to handle this alone. We need to stick together. Moira needs you to stay with us."
The room grew quiet, and then the still woman stirred moaning softly, "The door is opening. She can’t hear me."
Jarod cradled Madeline in his arms pushing her hair out of her eyes, "She knows we’re here for her. She’ll hear us. We just have to be patient."
Broots stared at Jarod and then at Sydney. His eyes, once sharp, were now clouding with confusion, and then suddenly Broots felt something release its hold on him freeing him leaving him staring wide eyed and terrorified reliving the last moments of his life as the black sedan slammed into him. Everything felt so strange. It felt like before when they were at the Centre, but Jarod, he was holding Miss Parker, but it wasn’t Miss Parker. Sydney and Jarod called her Madeline. Miss Parker’s first name was Moira. From behind him, Broots heard the sound of someone chuckling. He turned seeing a young man with blondish red hair and sparkling blue eyes. The young man smiled.
Broots almost jumped out of his skin. It was the man from the old library, the one who called himself Brice Jameson.
"Take care," the young man called out, "Enjoy your life. You’ll have an eternity."
"Broots? Hey, Broots!" Sydney said barely containing his annoyance. The programmer stared at him blankly before blinking.
"Sorry, I guess I’m tired," Broots said nervously.
Sydney sighed in relief. At least Broots was Broots again.
"Sydney, I think I’m going to be sick. What’s happening? Why are we here?"
Sydney smiled in relief, "Broots, I’m glad to have you back. What do you remember?"
"I was dead," the computer programmer stammered, "At least I thought I was, and then I wasn’t. I woke finding myself in this incredible place. It was like the people there knew everything about me. They were nice, and the food was unforgettable. I didn’t want to come back."
"This place, Broots? Do you remember what it was called?" Sydney asked quietly.
Broots shook his head, "I can’t remember. Everything seems so foggy now."
Henderson, NE
The phone rang waking Martha Bowman from a sound sleep. It took awhile for her to make sense of what was being said to her. Her son was alive. Her Bobby was alive, and he was coming home to live with her. The best part wasn’t that he was coming home, but that he was bringing home his wife, a pretty young thing as Bobby called her. Her name was Moriah. "What a pretty name," Martha thought. Bobby went on to warn that Moriah was very fragile. He wanted his mother to look after her seeing how awful things were for her especially after losing her babies, a set of twin. "How awful," Martha thought, "How awful it was to lose a child, but to lose two, well that was downright awful."
He hung-up leaving Martha Bowman in a dither. There were so many things to do. She had to make preparations. Her son, the boy she lost, was now coming home. She was so happy, so full of hope... He wouldn’t leave her like he did the last time. She had to make sure of that. She would make it perfect for him. "The perfect homecoming for the perfect son," Martha hummed as she began filling two large ceramic dog bowls full of dog food never minding the fact that there were several dog bowls already out untouched.
"You two hounds stop barking and messing around. I ain’t got all day," Martha yelled fully expecting the door to burst open revealing a young boy with his two hunting dogs trailing close behind him, and now she didn’t have to wait much longer. Her Bobby was coming home.
Salisbury, MD
Wesley Lyle returned the phone to its cradle. He frowned remembering his old life living in Henderson with the rest of the hayseeds. He had been happy there. He loved to hike living on the land. Lyle Bowman, the man Lyle thought to be his father until he was fifteen, had taught him that a man can live very nicely in the woods. He used to say, "Life on the land was simple. You could be yourself." Life was simpler in Henderson.
"When you see your life slipping through your fingers, remember how simple it all was. Remember who you once were..."
"If I let you live, will you tell me who I was? All I remember...All I ever remember is the smell of the sea. I was born by an ocean. It’s all I can remember."
Lyle massaged his eyes with his good hand. "What made him stop?" he wondered. He felt her collapse against him, and then he saw her face. She was smiling at him as if she were willing him to finish what he started. He found himself looking into her eyes. He saw his reflection, and then he saw the child he once was. He saw the real Wesley, the Wesley who was once loved.
"She still loves you, Wesley." He released his hold on the dying woman, "If I let you live, will you tell me who I am?"
The question was out before he realized what he was saying. "It was ludicrous to think Miss Parker would ever help him. Why would she?" he found himself questioning.
"Damn it," Lyle swore slamming his fist against the marble desk, the desk he stole from Mr. Parker’s office. It made him feel powerful sitting behind the ex-chairman’s desk.
"How many more people have to die before this is finally over?"
Lyle looked up confused seeing his old mentor standing in the doorway, "It’s not possible. You can’t be here. You’re dead."
Raines chuckled maliciously, "You always were slow, Bob, or should I call you Wesley. It is your name, isn’t it? And, you thought you could fool them into thinking you were actually Miss Parker’s brother. Funny thing about Miss Parker, she never takes things at face value. Not like her father who only believes what he wants to believe."
"I must be losing it," Lyle said rubbing his eyes. He caught himself staring at the security monitor. Parker was sound asleep thanks to the sedative he ordered for her. She never did answer him. It seemed as if she had disappeared. He saw it in her eyes, the blank vacant stare of someone who had given up.
"You’re out of your league, boy," Raines growled, "It’s only a matter of time before it’s too late to turn back."
Lyle continued to stare at the monitor ignoring the angry figure in front of him. All he ever wanted was to know who he was, and how it was that things had gotten so far out of hand? He almost had it all. He had Jarod right where he wanted him, and all that remained was to cut a deal with the Centre, and then that bitch, that stupid angel worshipping bitch got in his way. He could see her know laughing at him.
"My father might believe your act, but I don’t. I re-ran the DNA tests, and guess what? You’re not a Parker. You’re a nobody, a freak pretending to be my brother so you can save your own precious skin."
Lyle continued to stare at the sleeping woman hating her for what she knew. She had everything he wanted, and now she was trying to take it away from him. He wouldn’t let her do that. He would kill her first.
"Give it up, boy. Hell is so much worse than anything you could ever imagine," Raines continued. He was losing. He could see the battle, and the bad one was winning, "For the love of Christ, Wesley, hear me. Believe me. The alternative is unthinkable."
Lyle gripped his head in agony. He blinked hoping the figure of the man he had murdered would be gone. The searing pain had become a dull ache, "What the Hell do you know of God, Dr. Billy?"
"They’re getting worse? Raines asked softly, "You can’t think without pain, can you, Wesley?"
Lyle grabbed the edge of the desk as the searing pain renewed itself with a vengeance, "Please, make it stop. I..."
"She can help you. She can take you home, but you have to let them go. When the children are safe, she’ll help you."
Lyle nodded bracing himself for another onslaught. When he woke, he found himself in a pool of his own vomit. The phone was off the hook. He looked at his watch. He lost six hours, six hours he couldn’t remember except for bits and pieces. The children were long gone well on their way to a safe house. He remembered talking to someone. He pressed redial smiling in relief when he heard a computerized voice answer giving the time. The angry voice from before exploded in rage, "You fucking asshole. You let that son of a bitch trick you into giving up your only means of returning to the Centre. You’re fucked, cowboy. My only question was did you enjoy it? Was it good for you?"
Lyle felt himself slipping as the voice inside his head continued goading him. He stared at the monitor seeing Miss Parker sleeping feeling the rage reassert itself.
"Do her. You know she wants it."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Lyle screamed.
"Oh come on, Cowboy. I want you. I want you to give it to me. Ride me, big boy," the voice said huskily.
Lyle looked back at the monitor. Parker was looking directly at camera girating her hips at him while she laughed.
"You know, Lyle, you really don’t have what it takes, do you? You’ll never be half the man Jarod is."
"You stop it. You stop it now," Lyle heard himself scream, and then he was on top of her straddling her while he savagely pummeled her until he was too weak to move. She lay quietly wimpering as he pulled himself up from her.
"You’re not laughing anymore, are you, Miss Parker? Are you, Miss Parker?"
Moira tried to turn away from him attempting to curl herself up into a fetal position, but Lyle grabbed her by the hair forcing her head down into the pillow.
"You’re Pretender isn’t going to save you this time. Tomorrow, you are going to start a new life. You will be my wife, and you will do exactly as I say. Do you hear me? Answer me, Parker."
"Never! I would rather die first!"
Lyle laughed, "You’re going to die anyway. It’s just a question of when."
"Go to Hell, " Moira growled.
"Only if you come with me," Lyle sneered forcing his lips against Parker’s crying out like a wounded animal when he felt her teeth tear through his bottom lip. He reeled back swinging punching Parker in the jaw silencing her.
She was quiet as he continued thrusting himself viciously into her. He wasn’t even aware there was a real live human being beneath him. He was just fucking a piece of wood. Parker had ceased to exist. She was gone. When he was done, he pulled the blanket over her face as if she were dead. He laughed mirthlessly when he thought of the irony of transporting the "dead" Parker home. "I guess I am the angel of death, Miss Parker, only you’re not really dead, but you’ll wish you were by the time I’m through with you."
The Bad One laughed. He won this battle, and now the fun was just beginning.
Blue Cove, DE
"Kyle, no! Wait," Jarod screamed waking himself from the nightmare. He sat up struggling to remember the dream. All that came to him was a deep sense of loss. He closed his eyes willing himself to remember. The images came to him at once. He saw a sign with the words Dry River emblazoned on them, and then he was standing next to Kyle while Lyle pressed a gun to Moira’s head daring him to shoot him.
"Shoot him, you morons," Moira had screamed.
"Let her go," Jarod heard himself respond.
"How’s your knife wound?" Kyle sneered.
Moira took that as an opening, and swung hitting Lyle’s wound freeing herself, and then Kyle was falling taking the bullet that was originally meant for him.
Jarod jerked himself back from the darkness. Something wasn’t right here. Kyle wasn’t dead. He was in the room across the hall from him. He was about to call Sydney when he heard frantic footsteps running in the hallway.
"Mr. Beaudette! Mr. Beaudette! It’s your son."
Jarod threw open the door quickly, "What about my son?"
The young man panted frantically, "Brazelhurst Academy’s on the phone. They want you to come as soon as possible. They said it’s urgent."
"Is it about Jamie?"
"Is Jamie the eldest?"
Jarod nodded.
The young man swallowed hard, "They said it was the eldest."
Jarod followed the young man quietly not wanting to think of why Brazelhurst wanted to talk to him about Jamie. Out of his four children, Jamie had the strongest connection to Moira. He was often able to read his mother’s mind. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good.
"This is Mr. Beaudette, " Jarod said quietly.
"You’re son tried to commit suicide, Mr. Beaudette. He’s alright, but he needs to talk to someone," Headmaster Donavon said quickly.
Jarod felt his knees buckle, "Where is he?"
"He’s in the infirmary. Normally, he would have been transferred to a psychiatric hospital, but I promised him I would call you. He keeps saying he killed someone. I find that hard to believe, Mr. Beaudette. Jamie is the sweetest child I ever had the pleasure of teaching."
Jarod nodded, "I’ll come get him at once."
"Good, Mr. Beaudette. Jamie will be relieved to hear that. He was afraid you were going to be very angry with him."
Jarod put the phone back in its cradle. He closed his eyes swallowing hard realizing he was way over his head. First Moira is kidnapped, and now this. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The door to the office opened behind him.
"Who was on the phone?"
Jarod turned frowning at Sydney, "That was Brazelhurst. Jamie tried to kill himself. I’m going to get him."
"I’ll go with you," Sydney said concerned.
"Thanks, but I can do this alone, Syd. He needs me."
"I understand. I’ll be here if you need me."
Jarod nodded, "I’ll take the chopper. Tell Parker I want to see him when I get back."
Sydney frowned, "He may not be around too much longer, Jarod. Mr. Parker’s in the advanced stages of cancer. If there’s something you need to say to him, I suggest you do it now."
Jarod shook his head, "Jamie comes first."
Salisbury, MD
Lyle sat woodenly as he watched Miss Parker through the two way mirror. She was sleeping, or at least trying to. He marvelled how she could distance herself from the constant agony he caused her. It was becoming a nuisance the way she seemed to ignore the stimulus. He counted on her screaming for mercy. He fantasized about standing over her with the remote in his hand while she promised to bring him Jarod if he would stop the pain, and he would smile at her while he continued to torment her until she lay writhing and gasping on the floor begging for the pain to end. Lyle sighed in frustration. Instead of begging for relief, Parker seemed unfazed. "Perhaps, the Cleaner was right. Maybe pain wasn’t the way to proceed."
The door to the observation room opened, "You’re still at it."
"There has to be a way of getting into that mind," Lyle said quietly.
Jonas nodded, "You of all people should know what you’re up against. This isn’t a game, Mr. Lyle."
"I’m not playing games anymore, Jonas. I know how to break her. She will tell me where she hid the children. The Centre will reclaim its property."
Jonas shook his head, "And, you think they’ll let you return, Mr. Lyle? How long has it been since you’ve been back? Two years, three, four?"
Lyle sighed, "What’s your point, old man?"
"Those children would be teenagers by now. If memory serves me, the Centre was never interested in older children. It was always the babies, the toddlers, the ones who were too young to remember they were stolen. Was that the way it was for you, Mr. Lyle?"
"I think you better leave, Dr. Jonas. You’re really getting on my nerves."
Jonas smiled, "You’ll never get back into the Centre’s good graces. Why don’t you be a good boy and let Miss Parker go. She doesn’t have the answers. She’s as in the dark as you are."
"She will tell me what I want to know," Lyle said angrily, "I will regain my position at the Centre."
"If that’s what you want, Mr. Lyle, I’m sure you’ll get it, but ask yourself, will it be worth it? Do I really want to work for a company that doesn’t believe in a 401K plan? Do I really want to work for a company where retirement is just another euphemism for death?"
Lyle made a move to get up when the door to the observation room slammed shut. He cursed Jonas’ insolence as he reached for the door attempting to turn the handle. He felt a numbing coldness as his hand came in contact with the metal from the knob, "Shit!" The handle was frozen. Lyle inhaled deeply trying to regain his composure. He kept telling himself there was nothing to worry about. He was not in danger. "Jonas was just an old school Centre peon. He wasn’t even a member of the Triumverant.," Lyle told himself, but his words sounded hollow given the strange reappearance of his mentor. Out of the corner of his eye, Lyle saw movement in Miss Parker’s room. He turned watching her as she tried unsuccessfully to sit up.
She was waking. Lyle played with the remote control waiting for the right time to strike. He was about to push the button when he caught her looking at him. Her eyes seemed to cut right through him rooting him to the floor. Her eyes held him frozen. They reminded him of water, and then he was drifting unable to stop. He caught himself thinking of the beach and the water and how the hot sand felt good on his feet and how the water rushed at his ankles as he ran laughing. He turned away quickly. The image of the sand, the beach, and the blue water lost some of its focus, but it still held him fixed caught up in a memory that had long since been forgotten until now.
The room seemed to dissolve in front of him. Lyle gripped the edge of the chair trembling. He heard the distant sound of water crashing against the shore. He struggled to make sense of what was happening around him. The leather chair he had been holding onto had been replaced by something wooden. He was on some sort of wooden walkway overlooking a beach. Beside him stood a young boy who was crying.
"What’s the matter, son?"
"I want to go home. I want my Mommy!"
Lyle was about to respond when he saw a woman emmerge from the crowd. The young boy turned and began running towards her laughing. She was leaning down to pick him up when a young boy riding a mountain bike pushed in between them jostling the young woman out of the way as a man in a dark suit quickly snatched up the struggling and screaming child disappearing into the crowd as the woman looked on helpless.
"Wesley! Wesley!" the woman screamed, "Wesley!"
"Damn you," Lyle swore as he stood grasping the wooden arm rail. He turned to face her. He wanted to smash every bone in her body for doing this to him. "It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to dredge up the past this way," he fumed, "It wasn’t right."
Suddenly the lights went out. Lyle stood frozen waiting, hoping the emergency generators would kick in. He breathed a sigh of relief when they did, and then the door to the observation lab opened quickly.
"What the Hell are you doing?" Brigitte yelled angrily.
"What is it this time?"
"Look!" Brigitte growled pointing towards Miss Parker’s room.
Lyle turned not understanding what it was he was supposed to be looking at until he saw for himself that while he was taking a walk down memory lane, Miss Parker had escaped.
"This is unbelievable... " Lyle began.
Brigitte edged in closer to Lyle looking him in the eyes, "What I find unbelievable, Mr. Lyle, is that Miss Parker escaped in front of you. Can you please explain how that happened?"
Lyle backed away from the petite blond, "I...uh..I.."
"I’m waiting, Luv. Come on," Brigitte clucked mockingly.
"She was just here!" Lyle said in frustration, "God damn it! I want the building locked down. No one leaves without my clearance."
Brigitte smiled humorously, "What should I tell the Board. They’re waiting..."
Lyle spoke into his communicator, "I want a scan of all levels, Wilson. Tell Monte to get his ass down to Medical. Heads are going to roll.!"
"Well?" Brigitte asked frowning.
Lyle looked over his shoulder almost snarling, "What the fuck are you just standing there for, whore? Find her!"
Brigitte jumped as if she’d been slapped. She drew her gun as she entered Miss Parker’s room. She pulled back the bed covers holding the gun steady ready to fire, but no one was hiding under the bed. The room was empty. Brigette shivered feeling cold. Lyle never used such profanity. He was the perfect gentleman always concerned with appearances. He was always trying to out class Mr. Parker, and now his clothes were always rumpled as if he’d been sleeping in them. He swore loudly whenever one of the test subjects failed to complete a simulation. There was something going on here; something very strange, and if it hadn’t been for her orders, Brigette would have been happy to put as much distance between herself and this once powerful organization that was now in a state of shambles. The Centre was falling apart, and not even capturing the Pretender would save it.
The metal door slammed shut behind Brigitte blocking her exit. The breathing was coming from the corner of the room. The emergency light offered very little illumination.
"I know you're in here, Miss Parker. Why don't you come out? We can have double hot fudge sundaes with whipping cream on top. Come on, Luv, what do you say?"
The breathing became ragged as Brigitte drew closer to it. She reached into her pocket retrieving a small penlight. The figure in the corner wimpered as the light hit it. Brigitte let out a stifled gasp when she saw the woman's bruised and battered face, "Oh God! He did that to you?"
The woman looked up squinting at the penlight and nodded slowly, "The door is opening."
Brigitte frowned, "What's that?"
The woman swallowed hard, "He's coming. Hide before it's too late."
"What are you talking about, Miss Parker? What door? Who's coming?"
The woman's eyes grew wide, "Uh oh, he's here..."
Brigitte turned looking behind her as the door swung open slowly. The figure moved into the room. Brigitte directed the penlight at it sighing in relief when she saw Lyle's boyishly handsome face, "Mr. Lyle, thank God, it's you. Miss Parker's in the corner..."
Her words trailed off seeing the familiar glint of medal pointed at her, "You wouldn't dare, Wesley."
"I never did like you, Brigitte. You were always getting in my way, showing me up, making me look like a bumbling fool. I'm going to bring back the Centre's property, and you're not going to stop me."
Brigitte took a deep breath. She looked into Lyle’s eyes searching for the man she used to love. He was gone. The man standing before her was a stranger. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Lyle. I thought we were on the same team. I want to get those children back too. I would never make you look like a fool."
"You’re in my way," Lyle growled advancing towards the petite blond.
Beads of sweat rolled down the Cleaner’s face, "I’m on your side. I would never betray you. I’m not like Miss Parker."
At the mention of Miss Parker’s name, Lyle swung striking the Cleaner across the face with his gun, "Don’t you ever call her Miss Parker. Her name is Moriah, Moriah Bowman."
Moira wimpered, "It will never be the way you want it. I will never love you..."
Lyle pointed the gun at Brigitte’s head, "What do you say, Moriah? You in the mood for a little murder? God knows, It’s getting really boring here."
Brigitte looked up at Lyle pleading with him, "Please, don’t."
"Well, Moriah? What do you say? Should I waste her?" Lyle asked.
Moira glared at the Cleaner sneering, "Knock yourself out, Cowboy."
"You, Bitch," Brigitte screamed.
Lyle chuckled as the two women stared each other down, "Ladies, let’s not fight."
Moira winced as she balanced herself against the wall. He was pointing the gun at Brigitte’s forehead while he talked. She couldn’t understand him. He was jabbering away about something. "If she could make it to the door, she could try to find Dr. Jonas," she thought.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned seeing Miss Parker moving forward, and then the Cleaner was on him knocking the gun out of his hand. Lyle caught hold of the Cleaner’s fist spinning her around as if she were a rag doll.
Moira turned away trying to focus on getting to the door. Her legs felt like rubber, and her head was pounding. She tried to block out the Cleaner’s cries. She was so close to the door. The handle was almost in reach. Behind her she could hear Lyle laughing as the Cleaner struggled. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t allow Lyle to hurt someone else. She had to stop him. On the counter, she saw a syringe. Moira grabbed it lunging at Lyle stabbing wildly while he struggled to shake her off.
"You’re going to pay, Parker. You are going to pay," Lyle screamed in fury. He got up backing into the hospital bed. He heard a shriek, and then his attacker was falling to the floor, "Nice try, Parker, but you can’t win. You can’t win against me."
Brigitte got unsteadily to her feet. She saw Miss Parker lying on the floor, "You killed her. Oh shit! Now we’re both ruined."
Lyle chuckled, "She’s not dead, Brigitte. She’s just pretending. Isn’t that right Miss Parker?"
Moira wimpered, "It will never be the way you want it, Wes."
Brigitte gazed into Miss Parker’s eyes seeing herself reflected in them, "You tried to save me. I remember you. You tried to save me."
"What are you talking about?" Lyle asked menacingly.
"There were seven of us. Don’t you remember, Wes. She tried to save us," Brigitte continued. Her eyes had become glassy-eyed.
The noise in the hallway became a chorus of screams. The door opened abruptly, "Mr. Lyle, there’s been an explosion in one the air vents. We have to evacuate."
"Nooo!, " Moira screamed, "Angelo, Angelo."
Lyle struggled to hold onto Miss Parker, but she kept fighting, "Come on, Miss Parker. You’re no good to us dead."
"Angelo. He’s down there. I have to save Angelo," Moira screamed redoubling her efforts to escape. She felt Lyle’s grip loosen, and then she was free. She heard the Cleaner yelling, "Run, damn you..."
The Cleaner’s words were cut short as one of the Sweepers came flying around the door firing without asking questions, firing to kill everyone. Moira hid under the bed as the bullets continued flying. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of something metal half hidden underneath the counter. She inched closer to it snatching it from the floor. She checked the clip sighing in relief when she found it was loaded. The Sweeper started coming towards the bed. Moira waited until he knelt down to look under it before she let him have it point blank in the face. The sweeper perched backwards as Moira crawled out from under the bed.
"Lyle," she screamed, "Come out here, you coward."
Brigitte sat upright against the wall, "You tried to save me."
"Where is he?" Moira asked kneeling down to examine the Cleaner’s injuries, "Where is he, Brigitte?"
Brigitte coughed, "Behind you."
"Move, and I’ll be cleaning gray matter off the walls," Lyle sneered viciously.
Moira froze, "What the Hell do you want, Cowboy?"
"I want a lot of things, Miss Parker, but right now I’ll settle for you."
"You’ll have to kill me first."
Lyle withdrew a small vial of amber colored liquid, "Don’t worry, dearheart. I will, but for now I need you alive, so be a good girl and come with me quietly."
Moira felt him moving behind her, and then she felt a strong arm holding her down, "Let go of me!"
Brigitte tried to push herself up from the floor, "What are you giving her?"
Lyle smiled, "I’m making a Pretender, Brigitte. You want to watch?"
"Don’t do this, " Moira cried, "I have a family. I have children."
Lyle struggled to get hold of the syringe with his good hand getting it ready. Moira pushed back against him knocking the syringe to the floor. Lyle sighed, "Now, look what you did, Miss Parker. You made me drop it."
"Leave me alone."
"Leave me alone," Lyle snickered, "Leave me alone."
Moira came at him kicking, "Don’t you make fun of me. Don’t you ever do that. I swear.."
Lyle waited for her advance before pinning her against the metal hospital bed. He quickly inserted the syringe filled with the amber fluid into Miss Parker’s arm waiting for the medicine to work its magic. He felt her stiffen, and then she was gasping, "That was your first treatment. In a few minutes, you’ll be so out of it, you won’t even remember your own name. So, you see, Miss Parker, I will have what I want, and it will work out the way I want it."
Moira collapsed the floor. Everything seemed so far away. She could hear Lyle talking, but the words seemed mumbled. She struggled to stay conscious, but all she wanted to do was sleep. "Everything was so much easier in the darkness," Moira thought closing her eyes trying to breath deeply, "What did you give me? I can’t breath."
"Don’t fight the medicine, Miss Parker. Just let it do its work."
Moira weezed as she felt strong hands pull her up from the floor. She closed her eyes pushing herself further into the darkness. The locked door stood before her. She placed her hand on the knob sighing in relief when it yielded allowing her to enter the vortex where the past, future, and present became one. She wasn't afraid anymore. She looked through the glass vortex seeing her life, her children, her husband, and dam of tears broke inside her. "If I could change the past," Moira thought miserabley, "everything would be as it should."
"That's dangerous talk, Moirranda Parker."
Moira turned recognizing the voice, "Why is it dangerous, Andrew?"
"You don’t know what you’re getting into."
Moira searched the angel’s face, "What would I be getting into, Andrew?"
Andrew looked out towards the water frowning, "You’d have to go through the vortex."
"The vortex?"
"It’s the doorway through time."
Moira smiled wistfully thinking of all the things that could have been, "I can save her. I can save all of them."
Andrew frowned, "Careful, Moira. The Vortex is a very confusing and dangerous place. If you get lost, you’ll never find your way back. Are you willing to take that kind of a risk?"
Moira looked out at the water. The waves were coming in crashing against the shore. She breathed in deeply smelling the salty air, "My mother loved the beach. It was the only place she took me where she was happy. I guess it’s why I keep coming back. I feel close to her here. It’s like she’s still here, and now I can save her, Andy. I can go back, and stop them."
"Moira, I know how much you want this, but things happen for a reason. Your mother made a choice..."
"And, I’ve made mine, and besides, a woman has the right to change her mind," Moira said firmly. The opening to the vortex seemed to beckon her forward. The heat from the energy warmed her as she walked closer to it feeling it draw her in. She heard Andrew calling her name, but the warmth and the promise of the vortex made it nearly impossible to hear the Angel’s warnings.
Andrew frowned watching Moira enter the vortex. She was disappearing. He made a move to stop her, "You may never return."
Moira turned smiling, "I’ll return. You just wait, Angel boy."
Andrew shook his head as he watched the woman begin the long journey through the vortex. She turned towards him raising her hand as if to say good-bye, and then she was gone leaving him with a sense of failure. "He should of stopped her. He should have tried harder," he thought angrily.
Enroute to Brazelhurst:
Jarod drove nonstop to Brazelhurst. He couldn't stop thinking. Everything was falling apart around him. He couldn't understand what would possess Jamie to do something so stupid. The boy was so much like him; it frightened him. The words, "I killed them, Dad," echoed in his mind as he drove. "I killed them, Dad."
"I killed them, Jarod."
Jarod gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"I killed them, Jarod."
Jarod clenched his teeth, "You keep saying that, Kyle."
"Don't blame the boy. He only wanted to make you happy."
"He already makes me happy," Jarod responded angrily.
"Are you?"
"And, you're implying.." Jarod began. He stopped in mid sentence when he saw Kyle's face reflected in the windshield. It was the face he saw in his dreams, ghostly pale, dead. Kyle was dead. He was killed in Phoenix when he stepped in front of the bullet meant for him, "I don't understand."
"Things happen for a reason, bro. People die, so that others can live."
"The Deputy's son..."
"The natural order of things has taken hold again."
"The women you killed.." Jarod began.
"It never happened, bro. They're alive because I wasn't there to kill them."
"What was Jamie talking about?"
"He's so much like her. He's a natural."
Thoughts raced through Jarod's mind. "Was it possible? Could it really be done?" he wondered.
Kyle sat quietly watching his older brother think. The wheels were turning as the Pretender contemplated what it meant. He was fading. The ectoplasmic energy was almost gone leaving him almost translucent, "I'm sorry, Jarod. Sorry, I couldn't help you more."
Jarod swallowed hard. He needed more time to figure things out, "Wait, Kyle. I need you."
"There are others out there. They will help you. Be well, big brother," Kyle said softly as he faded leaving Jarod to drive the rest of the distance to Brazelhurst alone.
**********************************************************************
Salisbury, MD
The screaming, the lights, the frantic movement paralyzed her. She could see them running, and then the sound of gunfire, and her own anguished sobs seemed to hang in the air. Moira lay gasping watching the elevator open knowing without having to see the body on the floor of the elevator was her mother’s. She watched the blood seep into the tiled floor staining it red.
"Nooo!," Moira screamed, "Momma, Momma!"
Her voice echoed in the deserted corridor of SL-27. Moira made her way towards the elevator, "Momma?"
The elevator started to close, but something kept it open. Moira drew closer attempting to catch a glimpse of what lay in the door’s way. In the semi-darkness, she saw what looked to be a small hand. She stared at it not fully comprehending what lay on the elevator floor.
"Poor baby," Moira mused, "Your momma must have dropped you. Here, let me…"
Her voice trailed off as her eyes adjusted to the light allowing her to see the small child sized body laying crumpled on the floor, "No, no, this isn’t what happened. Momma!"
"You’re right, Moirranda. That’s not the way it happened," a familiar voice said from behind her.
Moira spun angrily, "Who the fuck are you? And, how do you know my name. No one calls me Moirranda. No one!"
Brice shook his head, "You don’t remember me"
"You have one minute to answer my question, Pal!"
"You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still as angry as ever."
Moira clenched her teeth seething with impotent fury. "Who was this strange man? She knew him, but from where?" she thought.
"You do remember me, but you don’t remember from where. How about a hint? You used to call me your ‘Blue Angel.’"
Moira stared at the good looking young man remembering, "You were in the blue light. I think I remember you. I was so scared. You helped me."
Brice smiled, "Yes, you do remember."
Moira trembled looking again at the dead child, "I couldn’t change anything. I thought I could save her, but all I did was get us both killed."
"Things happen for a reason. Your mother made a choice. She wanted you to have a chance at life. She wanted you to have all the things she didn’t have."
Moira smiled sadly, "I just wish she could see how I turned out."
"She has, dear heart. She sees you. She’s very proud of her baby."
Moira sobbed looking into Brice’s eyes, "I don’t want go back. He hurts me."
Brice frowned, "The longer you stay, the worse it will be when you return."
"Maybe, I don’t want to return. Maybe Lyle is right. It’s better this way."
Brice reached out grabbing Moira’s shoulder pulling her closer to him, "Better for whom? For him? For you? Is it better for them?"
Moira looked at the Blue Angel questioning, "Them? What them?"
The Blue Angel motioned for her to look through the vortex, "What will become of them, Moirranda? Are they to suffer the same fate you and Jarod suffered?"
She looked in mute horror at the rows of incubators. There were dozens of them neatly arranged while nurses watched the young occupants for signs of trouble. Moira sighed, "You would have thought the bastards would have learned from the last time."
"Oh, they’ve learned all right. They just do things differently is all."
"What is this place?" Moira asked. Her voice trailed off again as she looked at one of the nurses, "Oh, my God! It can’t be. The Centre is not that advanced…"
"Sheep are no different than humans. All it takes it just a bit of DNA, and viola!" Brice whispered.
"How many did they create? How many me’s are they, Brice? I have to know," Moira asked watching the nurse tend to one of the babies.
Brice shook his head, "I don’t know."
Moira felt her knees buckle as she slid down the wall. She sat silently staring at her feet, "Maya’s my clone, isn’t she, Brice?"
Brice reached down taking hold of Moira’s hand, "She loved you like a sister."
"I remember her. We played on the Centre lawn. We…"
"All manufactured."
Moira got up from the floor angrily, "Why?"
"You broke the Centre’s Cardinal Rule; you remembered. They couldn’t very well have the Chairman’s daughter blow the whistle on them, so they invented another lie, a bigger lie to cover up the smaller lie which led to an even bigger one."
"Lyle kept asking me about hidden children. I would remember hiding a group of children, wouldn’t I? Or was that a lie too?"
Brice frowned, "Look through the window, please."
Moira gazed through the vortex window. She almost smiled seeing herself herding a group of children into a dark colored van.
"Your clone, Maya, as sick as she was, helped a lot of children find new homes. If they only knew how many children she hid…"
Moira laughed, "Poor pathetic Lyle. He messed up again. You would think he would know about Maya, but I guess he was asleep during the Centre’s lesson on cloning."
"I guess," Brice agreed.
There was a long silence, and then Moira started to tremble, "So cold. Oh, God, I’m so cold."
"Fight it, Moirranda. He can’t win unless you give into him. Moirranda, listen to me…" Brice yelled.
Moira turned away from him shivering against the bone numbing cold trying to move towards the light at the other end of the vortex. "It would be warmer in the light," Moira thought stumbling making her stiff legs carry her towards the warmth. She couldn’t hear the "Blue Angel." She could only hear the sound of her teeth as they chattered against the cold.
"Moirranda, Moirranda," Brice yelled. His body shook with terror. The bad one was winning, "Don’t! It’s a trap. The light is cold. The light is cold!"
The Centre
Blue Cove, DE
Jamie woke gasping. Beads of sweat dripped down his face. He could feel his heart beating madly in his chest. The dreams were getting worse. He could see her standing almost hidden by a dark shadow, and then she was being pulled down into a dark tunnel. He could still hear her screaming as she disappeared.
In the hallway, he could hear his father talking to his uncle. They were whispering afraid to wake him. Something was wrong. Jamie swallowed hard remembering the dream. His father, a man who believed in telling the truth, lied to him. He tried to assure Jamie his mother was coming home soon, but the words were hollow. The pretender was on edge, and Jamie guessed his choice of discussion topics didn’t help matters.
"If you had a chance to change things, would you do it?" Jamie had asked.
His father was silent. He was thinking. Jamie struggled to make sense out of his father’s chaotic thoughts.
"Think of the possibilities, Dad, " Jamie continued, "What if you could go back in time and change everything? Wouldn’t it be awesome?"
His father had smiled, but the smile was half-hearted.
"Uncle Kyle didn’t have to die, Dad..."
The mention of his uncle made his father frown, "Things happen, Jamie. We don’t know why. They just do. There was a young boy. He was John’s age. He was sick, very sick, and now he’s alive because of Kyle. It was what my brother wanted, Jamie."
"Was it what you wanted, Daddy?"
His father was silent.
"Tell me you haven’t thought about going back..."
Jamie saw his father’s jaw grow tense, "I know you wanted to, Dad. I know it’s what Mom would have done for her mother."
His father slammed on the brakes causing the Explorer to skid, "Damn it, Jamie. Hasn’t this experience taught you how dangerous meddling can be? You saved my brother. I’m thankful, but what about those women. By saving Kyle, you caused their deaths."
His father’s words echoed in his mind. He hadn’t thought about Uncle Kyle being so different from his father. He never understood why his uncle was so angry, but on the way back to the Centre, his father told him about the Pretender project, and what Dr. Raines did to Uncle Kyle. Jamie saw the fear in his father’s eyes as he spoke of being frozen only to wake sometime later with no recollection of what happened.
"I lost three weeks of my life, and after seeing what they did to me, I’m beginning to think my brother was the lucky one. "
Jamie struggled to make sense of what his father told him. He didn’t understand why it was luckier to be dead. There were so many things he didn’t understand. He wished at times he had his father’s training. "He’d be able to understand everything then," Jamie thought wearily wiping the sleep out of his eyes.
In the hallway, Jamie heard footsteps. He could hear his father whispering something about his mother. He swallowed back a sob inhaling deeply trying to remember the smell of her perfume. He struggled to remember the sound of her laugh. Gently, he began to massage his temples trying to relax allowing the memories to come to him. She was so beautiful. He could see her brushing her hair in front of the mirror. He loved her auburn hair the way it curled at the ends. She was forever trying to straighten it. He had his father’s hair, dark brown and pin straight.
"Your mother used to do that."
Jamie looked up startled, "How long have you been there?"
Jarod frowned, "Long enough. You had that dream again."
Jamie nodded.
"She loved you very much. She loved everyone, " Jarod said thickly.
Jamie nodded, "I know, Dad. I hear her sometimes when it’s quiet. I wish you could hear her too."
Jarod sighed. He looked into his son’s face. He wished he could share in Jamie’s optimism, but the news from the FBI had been bad. A sweeper team from the Atlanta office stormed the abandoned medical base in Salisbury killing everyone in their path. Thirty-seven Centre employees were efficiently silenced including the man who called himself Sylvan Vestes.
His real name was Tristan. He didn’t have a last name. He was another Centre creation sent to make sure its dirty little secrets remained hidden. "What was the Centre hiding from," Jarod thought angrily. "What did Moira know that had the Centre scrambling for cover?"
"Dad, do you think Jenna and Justin are okay?"
Jarod inhaled slowly trying to push away the rage that was always simmering beneath the surface, "We have our best people working on it, Jamie. We’re going to find them."
Jamie nodded sleepily, "I miss them. I miss Mom."
Jarod cursed under his breath. He was no good at being a father. He needed Moira. She was the buffer. He expected too much. He wanted his children to be the best, to be the smartest, to be everything they could be.
"You’re doing to them what Sydney did to you, Jarod. Let them be children. Let them have the childhood we never had."
"She was right, " Jarod mused watching Jamie sleep, "I ask too much of you."
"You only want us to be the best," Jamie mumbled sleepily.
Jarod knelt beside Jamie’s bed taking the boy into his arms, "I love you, Jamie. I don’t know how to be a father. I push too hard."
"You love us, otherwise you wouldn’t push."
Jarod smiled, "How did you get to be such a great kid, Jamie Baudette?"
Jamie laughed, "I learned it from my father. He’s a great man."
Jarod laughed enjoying the warmth he saw in his son’s face. It allowed him to forget the seriousness of the situation going on around him. It gave him a sense of hope that maybe things would work out. They would find the twins, they would find Moira, and they would be free from the Centre. "It was a nice thought," Jarod mused. It was what got him up in the morning.
The phone rang just as Jarod entered Sydney’s old office. Sydney motioned for the Pretender to sit down.
"Who is it, Syd. You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
Sydney frowned, "They found the twins."
Jarod stood up quickly almost overturning the wooden chair, "Where? Are they..?"
Sydney sighed, "They’re a little banged up, but they’ll be okay."
"What do you mean ‘banged up,’ Syd? Those bastards didn’t hurt them, did they?"
"There was an accident. It seems someone was trying to rescue them. A sweeper team opened fire on the van causing it to skid off the road. There was a fire. I’m afraid Angelo’s been badly hurt, Jarod. He was the one driving."
Jarod felt his knees buckle, "Jesus, Syd! Where is he now? I have to see him. He’ll be scared and alone."
"He’s on his way to Dover General. They have the best trauma center on the East coast."
"I’m on my way, Syd. He needs me."
"Jarod, wait!"
"What? What is it, Syd?"
Sydney frowned, "The Centre’s making a new batch of Pretenders, Jarod. There were five children found in the van with Justin and Jenna. They are what’s left of a control group that started out with 25 subjects. These five are the Centre’s best specimens..."
"And, now they’re ours..."
Sydney took a deep breath exhaling slowly trying to regain his composure. This whole situation was weird. It was like something out of a science fiction movie, "The Centre found a way to clone, Jarod. These children are younger versions of you and Moira. There are two girls and three boys."
Jarod laughed, "And, they want them back."
Sydney nodded, "That was Mr. Tate, the new chairman of the Centre. He wants to bargain. He says he knows where Moira is. He said he’s willing to help us find her if we give them back the children."
"And, what was your decision, Sydney? Tell me you didn’t consider it."
"I didn’t say I believed him. Any meeting with the Centre would be an ambush. I told him to fuck-off, " Sydney said quietly.
Jarod looked at the old man in surprise, "In all the years I’ve known you, Sydney, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use such profanity."
"I’m tired of the bullshit, Jarod. The Centre has destroyed too many lives. I’m tired of running."
"We can’t give them back, Sydney. They’ll use them the same way they used me."
Sydney nodded, "I wouldn’t dream of it. You can’t bargain with the Centre, and besides, Tate has no idea where Moira is."
Jarod folded his arms defensively, "And, you know this from..."
"He was lying. I could feel it. I could hear his mind working. They wanted to play upon your vulnerability. They know you, Jarod. They know what drives you."
"And, what if they’re not lying? What if they know where she is? She could be in danger. We don’t even know who has her."
"While the paramedics were freeing Angelo from the van, he kept saying something about the bad man. I think he was referring to Lyle."
Jarod looked at Sydney, "How could you be so sure?"
"I had Broots hack into the Centre’s mainframe in Atlanta. Lyle’s real name is Wesley Arkham. He came to the Centre when he was a child. He was a beautiful child until Raines got a hold of him, and then he tried to kill Catherine. Parker had him farmed out to a childless couple."
"The Bowman’s, " Jarod said nodding, "I read his file."
Sydney shook his head, "You read what the Centre wanted you to read. Wesley Arkham was a difficult child. He wasn’t like the others. He demanded attention. As an infant all he wanted just to be held, but I’m afraid those at the Centre have no patience for attention starved. It wasn’t until he went to the Bowman’s that he got the attention he craved."
"They said his father, Lyle Bowman, used to beat him," Jarod said quietly.
"Some children will take any kind of attention even if it’s negative."
"His father used to lock him in a shed," Jarod said thickly imagining what it felt like to be locked away from everything in a cold, cramp, rat infested shed with only an old army cot to sleep on. He took himself back to the Bowmans’. He saw the beautiful old converted farmhouse, a house that from the outside looked homey while on the inside it was barren. It was no wonder Lyle was the way he was.
Sydney nodded seeing the Pretender’s eyes fade as he drifted off into the sim, "It makes sense now, Jarod. After the explosion in SL-27, Lyle was brought back in. Mr Parker pulled some heavy duty strings to get him reinstated, but it was only a rouge. Parker brought him in to further discredit him. I think he knew somehow Lyle was missing more than just his thumb. You can’t lock someone in a cell for all of his life and expect them to be normal."
"He thought he had Parker fooled. Imagine him being Moira’s twin," Jarod growled.
Sydney nodded, "He switched the results of the blood tests. He would have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for his cockiness, and his natural penchant for irritating the shit out of Moira. She ran another test outside the Centre, and came up with Angelo. I think Parker knew or at least suspected as much."
Jarod looked down at his hands. They were resting on a picture of Moira. He traced the outline of her face, "He’s a very dangerous man, Sydney. He’s out for revenge, and If he hurts her, I swear I’ll kill him, Syd."
"Get in line," Mr. Parker growled from the doorway, "If Moira had done what she was ordered to do, that bastard wouldn’t be alive today."
Jarod glared at the ailing man, "So, you’re blaming Moira for this. You arrange for your own daughter to be kidnapped for the purpose of hiding your dirty little secrets. What’s the matter, Parker? Afraid, Moira was going to remember what you did to her when she was a child? Afraid, she’ll find out you’ve been using her DNA as a means of creating a super race of Pretenders? Well?"
"Don’t you dare stand there criticizing me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here," Parker growled back.
Jarod laughed sarcastically, "If it weren’t for you, I would have had a wonderful life. I would have had my family."
"So, instead, you take mine. You turned my daughter against me. My own grandchildren curse me, and you think I’m going to allow that to happen. It’s not right. I’ll not have my daughter hating me, Jarod."
Sydney shook his head, "That’s supposing she is your daughter, Mr. Parker."
"What are you talking about, man?"
Jarod shook his head, "You’re unbelievable, Parker. You can’t tell me you didn’t know you weren’t Moira’s father. You’re fucking sterile."
Parker growled, "I raised her as if she were mine. Doesn’t that count for something?"
"You raised her to be a cold, manipulative bitch, " Sydney said snidely, "You raised her to be just like you. Isn’t that right, Parker?"
"I raised her to be strong, and now look at her. She’s a lunatic just like her mother."
Before Jarod had a chance to stop him, Sydney was on the old man slamming Parker against the wall holding him there by the throat.
"I have heard enough of you old man. Catherine Parker was a decent woman who stood up for what she believed in. She had the courage to say no. I will not have you dishonor her memory with your lies. Do you hear me, Parker? Are we clear on this?"
Parker struggled to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper, "Let me go. Please, let me go. You’re hurting me."
"Sydney, let him go. You’ve made your point."
"This feels good, Jarod. It feels damn good. I should have done this earlier."
"Sydney," Jarod repeated, "Let him go."
Sydney sighed glaring at the frightened old man, "You better watch yourself, Parker. Next time you might not be so lucky."
Parker brushed himself off, "You’re crazy. I thought Catherine was crazy, but you take the cake."
Sydney stepped forward ready to strike when Broots came running panting frantically, "They got a lead on Lyle. He was caught on a surveillance video at a truck stop."
Jarod looked at Broots hopeful, "Was Moira with him? Was she hurt?"
Broots shook his head, "She wasn’t on the video."
"He probably left her in the car. Her face is plastered on every police blotter throughout Maryland all the way towards Utah. If I know Lyle, he’ll head to some place safe, some place familiar."
"He’s going home to Mommy, " Kyle sneered. He limped painfully as he made his way towards Jarod. He smiled and winked as he drew closer.
Sydney and Jarod looked at each other in confusion. It couldn’t be.
"Now, don’t start getting weird on me big bro. I got your note about the vest. Good thing I wore it. Just one thing. How did you know Lyle was going to shoot me? I still can’t figure that out. I thought the blood pellets were a nice touch, don’t you?"
Jarod stood bewildered, "I didn’t leave you a note."
Kyle reached into his pocket retieving a crumpled up piece of paper, "Here, read it yourself."
Jarod looked at the note, and then handed it to Sydney, "I think Jamie’s meddling again."
Sydney shook his head, "I know Jamie’s handwriting, and this isn’t it."
"It’s mine, " Madeline hissed, "I warned the other Pretender. My father told me we would need his help if we were to catch the bad one."
"He’s a killer, Madeline. He’ll kill you," Jarod warned looking at Kyle menacingly.
"He’s not a killer. He wouldn’t," Madeline began, "He helps people the same way you do."
Kyle looked into his brother’s eyes, "I felt something when I hugged that woman in Arizona. I spend most of my time helping people."
Jarod stared at his younger brother in disbelief, "Those women. You killed them."
Madeline hissed, "The bad one kills. Kyle is not the bad one. He helps people."
Jarod looked curiously at the young woman. She could have passed for his wife had she been five inches taller. He stared into her hypnotic blue eyes, "Who is the bad one, Madeline? What’s his name?"
Madeline met the pretender’s gaze. Her eyes grew big, "He’ll kill you. He’ll kill you just like he killed all the others."
"What others?" Jarod probed.
Madeline looked at Parker, and then at Sydney, "The other pretenders. The ones that got away. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill all of us."
"I’ll kill him if he harms my daughter, " Parker growled menacingly.
Sydney shook his head, "If it were only that simple, Mr. Parker."
Jarod nodded looking at Kyle. He had replayed that night in his mind hundreds of times trying to see if there was a way Kyle’s death could have been prevented. He searched Kyle’s face smiling gently at the young man smiling back at him. He was different somehow. The anger in the young man’s eyes was gone. He almost looked peaceful, "Kyle, I have so much to tell you..."
Kyle nodded, "We have plenty of time, Bro. Right now we have a psychopath to catch, and it looks like we have a strong lead on him It seems he was thrown out of a Motel just outside of Tulsa. The manager was real nervous. He didn’t want trouble, so he sent Lyle packing. I have some truckers keeping tabs on the bastard. He’s taking I-70 West. I think our best bet is to pay Mrs. Bowman a visit."
Jarod smiled, "I agree."
Somewhere en-route to Nebraska
"You will not speak unless I tell you to, Moriah Lyle," Lyle said menacingly.
"My name is not.." Moira began. Her head felt like cotton. They had been driving all night. She struggled to make sense of last night. She remembered the explosion, and then they were running. Men in black suits were shooting at them, and the man driving kept giving her something that made her sleepy, "My name is Moira."
Lyle slammed on the brakes sending her forward. He grabbed her by the hair pulling her head up, so she could see his face, "You don’t listen, do you?"
"Let me go, " Moira said hoarsely, "You’re hurting me."
Lyle slammed her head against the dashboard, "You don’t speak. You don’t exist. Do you hear me? Do you hear me? Answer me!"
Moira cradled her head in her hands. She caught a glimpse of herself in the sideview mirror. Her eyes were haggard. The fogginess began to clear. She fought to contain her rage. She had to find a way to stay alive. Lyle was crazy. He would kill her unless she could prove she was valuable to him. She felt nauseous again, and then it hit her. A baby would be valuable to Lyle.
Moira swallowed quickly attempting to keep her voice steady, "You kill me, Cowboy, and there won’t be a baby. You hear that, Lyle. You just remember whose child I’m carrying inside me. You remember that!"
Lyle stared at her dumbfounded, "No way. You’re lying. You’re not pregnant. You can’t be."
Moira breathed in swallowing back a sob, "We’ll stop at the next town. They’re bound to have one of those home pregnancy tests."
"If you’re lying, you’re dead. I don’t care who your old man is."
"It’s not too late, Wesley. You can let me go. You haven’t really hurt me. I’ll tell Jarod you saved my life. He’ll have to forgive you," Moira said softly hoping to appeal to Lyle’s sense of decency if he still had any?
Lyle laughed viciously, "And, we all lived happily after. Give it a rest Lady. You better be telling the truth, or I’ll hurt you."
Moira took a deep breath slowly releasing it. She swallowed back the hatred she felt towards Lyle. The bottom line was to stay alive, and angering him was the last thing she wanted to do. The nausea started two days ago leaving her woozy. She forced herself to drink water hoping it was just a sympton of the drugs Lyle kept pumping into her, but this morning her breasts were swollen and tender. She had stared at them in the mirror horrified. Thoughts raced through her mind, "What if it’s not Jarod?" What if it’s his? How long had it been?" She couldn’t remember. She was losing whole chunks of time. Each day seemed to blurr into the next, and the constant motion made her sick.
"I need to throw-up," Moira said holding her hand against her mouth swallowing hard at the bile building in her throat, "Pull over!"
Lyle looked at her in exasperation, "You have been a gigantic pain in my ass since we left. I swear woman.."
"Pull over, damn you. Pull over now!" Moira raged pawing at the door as the car pulled over onto the shoulder. She leaned out as far as she could go tasting the acid as the vomit streamed down her chin onto her sweatshirt. She took the napkin Lyle handed her wiping her mouth with it. Her ankles throbbed. She promised herself she wouldn’t look at them, but her eyes fell towards them seeing the make shift splints. The skin underneath the ace bandages was turning blue and purple.
"They call this hobbling," he had told her as he handcuffed her to the bed that first night when they stopped at a roadside motel, "I can’t have you trying to escape."
He had waited until she was fully awake when he took the first swing breaking her left ankle. As he carried her to the car the next morning, she saw the wooden block he had used. It was covered in blood.
"You can’t leave me, sweets. You depend on me."
"You still mad about your ankles?" Lyle asked softly.
Moira continued to stare at them. They throbbed angrily, "What do you think?"
"They’ll heal. They always do," Lyle said quietly.
Moira turned away looking out the passenger side window at the passing countryside. She tried to focus on the houses. She wondered what kind of people lived in them, and if they knew that she was missing, and that all they needed to do was to see her, and this whole nightmare would end. She allowed her eyes to close remembering what it felt like to be held and loved. She could almost feel Jarod’s embrace. It made her smile wistfully.
"Damn it!" Lyle cursed, "Looks like we got company!"
Moira looked in the rear view mirror seeing the flashing blue lights of a state trooper. She looked at Lyle and saw him reach for his glock, "No!. Don’t."
"You shut-up, Parker. I’ll handle this," Lyle said menacingly.
The state trooper motioned for Lyle to pull over. Lyle slowed down pulling over to the shoulder of the road. He waited for the trooper to approach the car before rolling down his window, "Good afternoon, Officer."
"Afternoon, Son. Do you know why I stopped you?"
Lyle smiled good-naturedly, "No, Officer, I don’t. Was I going too fast?"
The trooper nodded, "The speed limit is 75, and you were going 100. What’s the rush, Son?"
Lyle reached over grabbing Moira’s leg laciviously, "You married, Officer?"
The trooper looked at Moira and then at Lyle, "Yes."
"Me and the new misses are headed home to meet my mother. I guess I’m kind of nervous, you know. I just want my mom to like my wife, and to tell you the truth, I’m kind of looking for a motel if you know what I mean."
"I see," the trooper said looking at Moira. His eyes lingered for a brief moment on hers, "I won’t write you a ticket this time, but take it easy. Nothing is worth dying for."
Lyle nodded, "I agree. Thank you, Officer."
Moira breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the cruiser pull out. She held her breath until they were back on the road. She saw the look in the trooper’s eyes. "He recognized her," she thought, "He’s going to radio ahead, and this nightmare will be over."
"You still think your Jarod is coming to rescue you?" Lyle sneered.
Moira bit her lip fighting against the urge to reach over and punch the smug smile off of Lyle’s face. If she hadn’t been dependant on the bastard for everything, she would have, but she saw his temper. She remembered the savage brutality Lyle used to subdue the car salesman in Tulsa when he refused to take an out of state check. In the end, Lyle had simply taken what he wanted, and now they were cruising in a new BMW. She had to admit, Lyle had style. "It was a shame it was wasted on such an animal," Moira thought wearily.
Lyle reacher over caressing Moira’s cheek with his finger, "You are so unbelievably beautiful. Do I tell you that enough, love."
Moira cringed hearing the malice behind his words, "Stop."
"Stop? You want me to stop calling you beautiful, love?" Lyle continued. His fingers traced the outline of her jaw and chin.
She turned away flinching, "You make me sick."
Lyle laughed reaching downward grabbing Moira’s breast squeezing it roughly, "I love it when you talk to me like that. I think we need to stop soon. "
Moira slapped his hand away, "Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me!"
"That’s not what you said last night, was it? I seem to recall you screaming you couldn’t get enough."
Moira closed her eyes turning towards the window. She struggled to push the down the revulsion she felt when she remembered waking up to feel him on top of her grunting like an animal.
The words were out before she could stop them, "It’s all in your own sick deluded mind, Lyle."
Lyle snarled, "Why do you always make me punish you? Why can’t you behave?"
Moira opened her mouth to respond when she felt a searing pain travel from her head down her back causing her to gasp.
"We could have had a nice day for once, and now look at yourself. Don’t you ever fucking learn? You can’t win, Parker."
Moira felt her body convulse, and then she was falling forward clutching her legs to her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him press another button on the remote transmitter, and then the pain was gone. She tensed waiting for another onslaught.
"Are you going to behave?"
She wanted to say, "Fuck off," but knowing her defiance would cause another onslaught made her whisper, "Yes."
"What? I didn’t hear you, Parker. Are you going to behave?"
"Yes," Moira repeated louder.
"Good girl, " Lyle said checking his watch, "Oh look, it’s time for your medicine. We mustn’t forget your medicine."
Moira cringed inwardly knowing what the medicine would do to her. With every dose, she felt herself pull further and further away. She fought to stay alert, but the sounds of the oncoming traffic, the voices from the radio, and Lyle’s incessant babbling made her edgie. She wanted to run, to get out of here, but Lyle fixed that. Moira stared down at her swollen, twisted ankles, and realized she would probably never see her children. She swallowed hard forcing herself to remain strong. She had to remain in control. She had to find a way to stop him. She looked down at her stomach.
"What about the baby?" Moira asked softly barely audible.
Lyle turned. The smile disappeared from his face, "You’re serious?"
She nodded, "It’s yours."
Lyle stared at her mentally doing the arithmatic, "How do I know it’s not his? How do I know you’re even pregnant? You could be lying to protect your own skin. You Parker’s are like that."
Moira ignored the challenge, "Let’s just say the Pretender hasn’t been able to carry out his husbandly duties in a long time."
Lyle snickered, "You mean he’s impotent?"
"I don’t interest him that way," Moira lied, "He hides out in his study thinking of new ways to annoy me."
"I always new he couldn’t get it up," Lyle laughed.
Moira cringed hating herself for lying. She closed her eyes trying to picture Jarod’s face. In her mind he stood smiling holding out his hand towards her, "Hang in there, Parker. The cavalry is on its way."
Bowman House
Henderson, NE
"I don’t know what you’re talking about. My son is dead," Martha Bowman said anxiously.
Jarod nodded, "Your son is a very sick man, Mrs. Bowman. He has my wife. We know he called you. I can play back the conversation for you if you’d like."
"Jarod! There’s no need for that," Sydney said angrily.
Martha Bowman sat down heavily at the kitchen table. She looked at Jarod. His eyes were sad. Her heart went out to him. She sighed, "He called me a few nights ago. He said he was coming home."
Jarod nodded, "Did he say anything about my wife?"
"She lost her babies. What a shame. He wanted me to help her. Do you think he’ll come home, Mr. Beaudette?"
"He’ll try."
Martha Bowman’s lip trembled. Tears ran down her face, "My son’s a bad man. He hurts people. Do you think he’ll hurt her?"
Jarod swallowed hard, "I hope not."
Martha Bowman got up slowly from the table, "You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I have a couple of guestrooms, and then there’s Bobby’s room."
"That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Bowman," Sydney said quietly.
"We’ll hide the Explorer behind the barn, and then we’ll take turns keeping a look out, Broots, you keep searching for any information on what the Centre’s working on now," Jarod said grabbing the keys to the Explorer. He was tired. Later he would sleep, but for now, he had too many things to do.
Martha Bowman watched him leave. She sighed, "I wish things could have been different. I wish I could have stood up to Lyle. Maybe this all wouldn’t have happened."
"Mrs. Bowman, this wasn’t your fault. Your son was earmarked by the Centre from the time her was born. At least you tried to provide him a good home."
Martha Bowman nodded, "I’ll get you some towels for the bathroom. Your friend looks very tired."
"We’re all tired, Mrs. Bowman."
"Well, then you should rest. There’s no sense in tiring yourself out," Martha Bowman smiled.
Jarod stood in the doorway yawning, "I think I’ll tap a nap, Sydney. Wake me when it’s my turn."
Sydney smiled, "Will do."
Jarod looked at the room Mrs. Bowman took him too. It was Bobby’s. If he didn’t know any better, the room could have been Jamie’s. Everything looked the same the day Bobby was supposedly murdered by his father. All of the posters still lined the wall, and the trophies stood neatly on the bookshelves.
"My Bobby was an athlete. He loved baseball. He won this one while playing Little League. I was so proud of him," Martha Bowman said thickly.
"I’m sorry, Mrs. Bowman. This must be very hard for you."
"No! Don’t be sorry, Mr. Beaudette. My son is dead. I have to face that."
Jarod nodded. He watched her leave before sitting on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes trying to get a sense of the boy who once loved baseball. He saw him as a boy laughing, and playing with his friends, and then nothing. And then Jarod was sleeping. He dreamt of Moira on the beach at Fire Island. She was laughing. She beckoned to him to follow her. He reached for her calling her name, and then she was gone as was the beach. He found himself standing in the middle of a road. There was a car coming. He watched in horror as it approached. He saw them. He saw Lyle’s face contorted in rage, and she was staring right at him.
Jarod struggled to reach her in his dream. He kept repeating her name. He could hear them talking. She was scared. Something was wrong. She was sick. Her face was so pale, and then he was hitting her. He screamed out struggling to reach her. He could hear her crying, and then he was laughing. Her words were almost inaudible, but Jarod heard them. His heart sank. She was pregnant, and she was trying to keep Lyle talking anything to keep him from thinking about the Centre, and by the way Lyle sat staring at her, it appeared to be working, and then she looked at him. Her face was ashen as she spoke.
He heard her voice full of hatred, "Jarod lives to annoy me. It’s what he does." The voice was hollow, and her eyes looked into his garding her thoughts. Jarod tried to probe deeper into her mind trying to feel what it was like to be her, but she seemed to sense him, and pulled back. He kept reaching out trying to pull her away from Lyle, away from the pain. He kept repeating her name trying to hold on, and then she was gone.
"Hang in there, Moira. Just keep him talking," Jarod whispered thickly, "Keep that bastard talking."
"Stay in the car, " Lyle sneered, "I don’t have time for this."
"I have to go, " Moira cried, "What do you expect me to do?"
Lyle ignored her as he half stumbled out of the car almost tripping on the curb. He was tired, thirsty, and all he could think about was a cold one. He could almost taste it going down.
"Lyle!" Moira yelled loudly.
"What?"
"I have to go. Unless you want me to go right here, I suggest you get you’re ass over here, and help me out of this car..."
Lyle staggered back to the car angrily. He yanked open the car door, pulled the wheelchair out from behind the seat, and reached into the car grabbing Moira by the hair, "You are the biggest pain in the ass, Parker. Nothing is ever good enough for you."
Moira began to cry soundlessly when she felt the first few drops of urine slide down her leg, "Leave me alone."
Lyle looked at her in amazement as the wet spot on the back of Moira’s jeans grow bigger, "Oh man! This is too much. This is too perfect, too fucking perfect."
"I told you I had to go, " Moira said softly, "I told you an hour ago."
Lyle shook his head as he placed Moira into the chair, "I’m going inside to get some paper towels. You better stay put, or you know what will happen."
Moira tried to sit up straighter in the chair, "Don’t hurt anyone this time. Just get what you want, and walk out. No killing, okay?"
Lyle laughed, "Ok, dear. I won’t hurt anyone."
He was lying. Moira felt it. The night before they had stopped at a cheap motel. Moira stayed in the car while Lyle registered. It was a pain in the ass to lug out the wheelchair, so Moira always watched as Lyle smooth talked his way into a room. It made her skin crawl whenever he poured on the charms. "Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth," she thought bitterly.
She was tired when they got into the room, but before she could get into bed, he threw the home pregnancy kit at her.
"Here, make yourself useful."
Moira sighed wheeling herself to the bathroom closing the door behind her.
While she read the instructions, Lyle said something about going out for a drink or something. It took her ten minutes to learn what she already knew. She was pregnant. Later she lay in bed watching the clock trying to count back the months since her last cycle. She tried to recall the last time she and Jarod made love. Time seemed to be slipping away from her. She closed her eyes inhaling deeply trying to empty her mind allowing herself to fall further into the darkness. She saw herself with Jarod. They were talking, and he was crying. He was begging her to stay.
"I can try harder."
"This isn’t about you, Jarod. It’s about me. I have to find out who I am. I have to remember."
"What if you don’t like what you find out? What then?"
"The Centre took away my life, Jarod. I want it back. I thought you of all people would have understood."
He looked defeated, "I can’t convince you to stay."
She had looked at him frowning, "No."
Moira’s eyes flew open when she heard the key turning in the lock. The pregnancy kit was on the bathroom sink. She held her breath as she heard him staggering across the room. The bathroom door slammed, and the there was silence. Moira waited tensely as the bathroom door opened. She turned to see him standing in the doorway massaging his head while cursing softly.
"You’ll never amount to much, asshole. You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?"
Moira pushed herself up, "What are you talking about?"
Lyle grabbed at his head screaming, "Make it stop, damn you. I want the game to end. Damn you!"
"Make what stop? What? What the hell is wrong with you, Lyle?" She had screamed in frustration. The white hot anger had surfaced for a moment before she swallowed it back. She couldn’t allow herself to give into it. Anger made you clumsy, and clumsy made you dead.
He had rushed at her throwing her flat against the bed, "That bastard you’re carrying better be mine."
Moira trembled remembering the crazed look in Lyle’s eyes. She swallowed back her fear, "It’s yours, I swear."
Remembering last night made her cold. Moira folded her arms trying to ward off the chills when she heard loud angry screams coming within the store. She looked up to see him racing at her screaming.
"Get off your ass, Parker. Let’s get moving!"
Before she had a chance to respond, he grabbed her roughly from the chair throwing her into the front seat. She stifled a shrill scream of pain as the door slammed brushing against her injured right ankle. The car lurched forward throwing Moira into the dashboard.
"Damn you, Lyle," Moira gasped clutching the dashboard to keep from going into the windshield, "You’re going to get us killed."
Lyle gritted his teeth angrily, "Shut up, Parker. Shut the fuck up."
Moira slumped down in her seat angrily. She hated him. She hated him for what he did to her, and to her father. She could still hear him laughing maliciously when she confronted him about the blood tests.
"You thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you. You actually thought Daddy believed you were his long lost son, didn’t you? Well, I have news for you buddy-boy, I re-ran the blood tests, and guess what I found. You’re a liar, Lyle, an imposter."
"You see, Parker, you could never see the big picture."
"And what ‘big picture’ was that, Lyle?"
"Who would your father prefer as a son, a half-wit freak, or ..."
"A psychopath. I would prefer a diseased ridden rat over you, Lyle."
"Well, dear sister, fortunately for me, you father prefers the psychopath."
He had left her then standing in her office simmering in her own anger. "She would have her revenge," she had vowed, "She would educate the triumverant, and then Lyle would become persona non grata." The thought even now made her smile.
"What are you so happy about?" Lyle snarled. His hands were clamped tightly making his knuckles turn white.
"Just remembering what my father said when I handed him the DNA tests," Moira said. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, "Did you really think they would roll over for you?"
"Maybe not then, but I have something, don’t I, Miss Parker?"
"Don’t call me that, and you have nothing."
Lyle reached over caressing her stomach, "There’s a new life in there growing. I’d like to think the Centre would be happy to take me back. They could finally reclaim what was rightfully theirs. Just think of it.."
Moira clenched her teeth, "Just think of what? Don’t you even hear yourself? What has the Centre ever done for you except cause you pain? Why would you think it would ever be any different?"
Lyle shrugged, "You’d be surprised what the Centre would do with this new opportunity, this new life. You’ll see, they’ll take me back. They have to."
Moira frowned looking down at her growing belly, "They’ll kill you. They’ll take what they want, and afterwards you’ll disappear just like your mother did. Just like all the rest of the parents. They all just disappear.."
"What are you yaking about? My mother is in Henderson, and my father, well, we know where that bastard is spending the rest of life at."
Moira inhaled slowly. She stared at the road in front of them, "I was’nt talking about the Bowman’s. I was talking about your parents, your birth parents."
Lyle slammed on the brakes causing the cars behind him to honk angrily, "What did you say?"
"You heard what I said," Moira said thickly.
"You don’t know a damn thing about my parents. I spent most of my adult life searching for them, and came up empty. Why do you think I stole the blue box? I thought for sure I had finally found them, but all I got was more deadends, so don’t tell me you know who I am or where my parents are," Lyle spat angrily.
"I see things," Moira said thickly, "I know things, horrible things the Centre thought were long forgotten."
"And what horrible things are those?" Lyle sneered.
Moira closed her eyes seeing the line of incubators full of infants from her dream, "They’re making pretenders again. Only this time they’re doing it in house. They don’t want to take chances. They don’t want another Jarod incident."
"I don’t understand. What does that have to do with my parents?"
Moira turned staring at Lyle with tears in her eyes, "Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? They stole you from your parents the same way they stole Jarod. The only difference being the time of day. What do you remember from that day?"
Lyle looked at Moira. His eyes were red, "What day? I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Moira continued to look into Lyle’s eyes seeing a hint of a tear work its way down his face, "I know you remember, Wes. I can see it in your dreams."
Lyle looked away focussing on the road trying to drown out the voice that continued to goad him.
"She’s lying. Don’t listen to her buddy-boy. She’ll do anything to protect him. She’s lying. She doesn’t know anything. Who ya gonna trust buddy-boy? Huh? Who’s been there for you? Who saved your skinny little ass when it was just you and that son of a bitch, Dr. Billy? Who knows all your dirty little secrets? Who knows where all the girls are? Huh?" the voice laughed softly.
Lyle cursed stepping on the gas gunning the BMW up to 90. "There is safety in speed. Go faster, faster."
"You can’t outrun the devil, Wes," Moira said softly, "He knows all of your hiding spots. He knows where you live."
Lyle snarled, "Shut up, Parker. Shut up, or I’ll make you."
Moira laughed, "Just like you made all those other women. Just like you made him."
Lyle grimaced feeling as if he were being kicked in the groin. His voice was shaky, "What women?"
"The ones you killed."
Her voice was like a sledgehammer slamming into his head drowning out everything. He turned towards her feeling her eyes burning into him. He could see them now. He could see all of them, all of the women he killed.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he began. His voice sounded high pitched and far away. The voice inside his head screamed, "Get away from her. Go faster, faster!"
"You can’t outrun the truth," Moira whispered, "God knows I’ve tried."
If he heard her, Lyle didn’t let on. He stepped down harder on the gas pedal slamming it almost to the floor feeling the wheels begin to slip as the speedometer reached 120. He lips tightened in a grimace as he remembered their eyes. He saw them watching him, pleading with him while he killed them. He closed his eyes trying to push the image away, but it held fast as he continued driving.
"You see them, don’t you? When you close your eyes, you see her, and you see them. You couldn’t kill her, so you killed them? Is that it?"
Lyle winced from the memory of her face standing on the boardwalk watching him disappear unable to save him. He hated her for that. "Mothers were supposed to protect their children, weren’t they?"
"I warned you," the voice screamed, "I told you what she was capable of, but you had to prove you were a bigshot, and now where the fuck are you, Boy? I’ll tell you where you are, Boy. You’re nowhere."
Lyle gritted his teeth, "God damned you to Hell! I don’t want to hear it anymore. This game is over, and you lose."
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Lyle swore loudly while he struggled to follow the winding road. He looked over at Moira suddenly seeing her for who she was, a bright, beautifull woman who had beaten the odds. She had escaped the Centre. She had risen out of the ashes like the phoenix, and rebuilt herself. She had moved on, and he...
There was a loud honking. Lyle looked back at the road. His thoughts seemed to clear. For the first time in a long while, he could see it all clearly. He knew what he wanted. He knew what drove him. He understood. He cursed softly realizing his good luck that life epiphanies always came at the point where you could do nothing about them. It was too late. The BMW swerved lost traction finally slamming headlong into oncoming traffic.
"Game over," Lyle thought miserably as he shut his eyes falling heavily into the darkness of oblivion.
Dover General, ICU
Dover, DE
Sydney watched the empath as he slept. It had been a rough night. What made it rough had been the horrible news of the accident. The local authorities held out very little hope for Lyle’s survival. Sydney replayed the phone conversation in his mind.
"Your nephew was lucky to survive. You should have seen the car, completely totalled. It looked like a matchbox."
"And, my niece? How is she?" Sydney had asked.
"Your niece?"
"My niece, the woman travelling with him. She’s tall, brunette..."
"I’m sorry, Sir, but your nephew was travelling alone."
Sydney had hung up the phone in a daze. He had wanted to correct the man. He wanted to tell him that Lyle, the bastard, was not his nephew, but he was too anxious. All he could think of was Moira. Jarod was with the twins. He had heard them crying while Jarod spoke softly to them. He didn’t know what to say. His mind kept racing. He should have been happy. Moira was not in the car. She wasn’t in the accident. He wanted to believe that. He clung to that belief, but after sitting with Angelo, and hearing the empath’s horrified screams until the nurses finally had to sedate him, he knew the Centre had won. They had her, and Lyle was there only hope of finding her.
Quietly Sydney cursed, "If I have to keep you alive myself, Lyle, I will. You will tell me where Moira is, and then you will die."
Three years Later
Jarod stared at the plainly wrapped package. It was addressed to him. He examined the neat, block styled print. It almost looked like it was written by a child. He turned the package over in his hands trying to get a feel for who sent it. It had been three years since Moira disappeared. The twins were eight, and the five children they rescued from the Centre were hidden in new homes. "At least they would have the childhood I never had," Jarod thought bitterly, "At least they were safe."
"It looks like you have a secret admirer, Daddy," Jenna said giggling.
Jarod smiled seeing his daughter standing in the sunlight. She was dressed in her school outfit. In the light she reminded him of Moira when they were children at the Centre.
"You think I look like her," Jenna said smiling.
Jarod couldn’t help laughing, "You know it’s not polite to read people’s minds without their permission."
Jenna frowned, "I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again. I promise"
Jarod smiled as he watched her put her school books down. The twins were growing up so fast. Justin was at a friend’s house working on a science project, and Jamie was away at Medical school. John was in Paris studying art with Brice Jamieson, one of Sydney’s friends from Harvard. He knew Sydney was not telling him the truth about Brice, but Brice was sharp. "Moira would have liked him. He was funny in a weird sort of way, but she would have liked him," Jarod thought.
He missed her. Late at night, when he thought no one was up, he would sit in the dark with his eyes closed trying to reach her. He was never successful. She was too far away, and that bastard Lyle, or Wesley, or whatever he called himself this week, was no help. He was a babbling fool. He hated and pitied the bastard being locked up in a nuthouse. "Even jail’s too good for you," Jarod thought bitterly.
He held the package in his hand unsure. "Should he open it? What if it’s from them?" He didn’t want to open it. He didn’t want to face it. Whatever they did to her made her unreachable. He didn’t know if he could stand that. He had to know. He had to open it. If there was something in it, a clue, he had to do something.
Jarod tore open the package spilling the contents onto the kitchen table. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw the locket, the locket he had given Moira for her birthday. It contained pictures of them as children. He traced the outline of the delicate engraving on its face. He closed his eyes swallowing hard at the knot of fear in his throat. "If they had the locket, they had her," he thought. He felt dizzy. His knees began to buckle. He gripped the corner of the table to steady himself. He had to face it. He closed his eyes willing himself to see the images from the locket.
"Take that off, please."
"This?" she asked fingering the locket, "Why? It’s all I have."
"Give it here, Parker. I don’t want to hurt you."
Jarod’s flew open wide. He breathed in quickly trying to keep from cursing, "Bastards! Sons of bitches. If they hurt her, I swear, I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking kill all of them."
"Jarod!" Kyle said sternly, "Lower your voice."
His lip trembled as he faced Kyle, "Those bastards sent me her locket. Why would they do that?"
"We’re dealing with the Centre, Jarod. You of all people should know how cruel they are," Kyle said quietly. He walked over to the table lifting the brown paper to see the childish scrawl, "Looks like it came from a kid."
Jarod looked at the DSA that had accompanied the locket. He handed it to Kyle. Kyle nodded, "We better get Broots and Sydney. They need to see this, bro."
"I would prefer to watch it alone," Jarod said thickly.
"Sorry, no can do. You need to mellow out if we’re going to help Moira, Jarod. I think we all need to stick together. We can beat them, Jarod, but we have to be cool headed."
Jarod nodded, "You used to be so angry, so full of rage. How did you make it go away?"
"I learned to go on, and to not let my anger rule my life. There is so much out there, Jarod. I learned to channel my anger into more constructive endeavors."
Jarod looked down at the locket and at the DSA, "I hope one day to find the same peace you have, Kyle, but that day is not today, and it doesn’t look good for tomorrow. I won’t rest until my wife is safe. I won’t rest until I know for sure that the Centre pays for what it’s taken from me."
Kyle shook his head sadly. He wanted so much to tell Jarod the truth about why he had returned. He wanted to tell Jarod the truth, but the truth sounded like something out of a bad "Touched by An Angel" episode. "I’m an angel sent from God," Kyle thought ruefully. The truth was that he was an angel. There was no bullet proof vest. The note had been something he and Madeline had concocted to make his appearance more believable. He thought of Madeline. She had known the minute she saw him what he was, and why he was there. She wanted to help. She wanted to bring back the love he had lost when the killer had surfaced again.
It was easy for Jarod, for all of them to believe that he was the killer. It had been so long since the last murder that Kyle had thought he was dead, and then the dreams started. This time, the bastard took him along for the ride. He took great delight in showing him his victims, young women with long dark hair and blue eyes. He was killing them to kill her. Kyle felt the familiar rage, and instinctively backed away from it. Rage was emotion, emotion was human, and he was no longer human. He had to keep telling himself that. "Don’t get too attached." It was easier said than done.
Jarod needed him, and it was a great feeling to feel needed. "Watch out, angel boy, you’re becoming too involved. You’ll make it harder on them when it’s over." Kyle frowned watching his brother staring at the locket, "They won’t kill her."
Jarod looked up meeting his brother’s eyes, "What makes you think they haven’t already?"
"She has something they need. Why else keep her so long? The other women were disposed of after they gave birth, but they kept her alive. Why? What does she have that the others didn’t?"
"She sees things," Jarod said thickly, "She has this incredible ability to read into your soul. I used to wonder why I loved her so much even when she was tracking me. She knew what was missing even when I didn’t. She made me whole."
Kyle nodded, "But why would the Centre want her?"
"They’re afraid of what she could do to them. What she did to them in Maryland was small potatoes. It bothered me that the Centre would kill their own people I spoke to that doctor, Doctor Jonas. He told me that people had a tendency to jump ship when she was around."
"Even Lyle succumbed to her, didn’t he. He was the one who gave Angelo the keys to the van. He was also responsible for getting the kids passed the sweepers. Imagine, Lyle doing something selfless," Kyle mused.
"She really got to him, didn’t she?" Jarod said smiling remembering the look of fear in Lyle’s eyes when he and Sydney walked into the hospital room, "He couldn’t even speak without stuttering."
"Maybe if we help Lyle, he’ll help us?"
Jarod looked at the DSA. He held it between his thumb and index finger rubbing the edge thinking, "Lyle can go to Hell."
Kyle gripped Jarod’s shoulder, "Think about it. He may be our only chance."
Jarod nodded continuing to stare at the disk. He waited until Kyle left before opening the familiar haliburton. The viewer powered up. Jarod slipped the disk into the slot waiting while the disc loaded.
For Centre Use Only
"Has the subject completed the sim?" a voice asked over the intercome.
"No. She wants to see the child. She won’t cooperate until she’s seen it," the man in the sim lab responded.
"Tell her when the sim is complete, she will see the child," the voice spat angrily.
The man shook his head, "I don’t think she’ll go for it, Mr. Renairi."
"The Centre isn’t paying you to think, Davis. If you can’t get her to cooperate, we’ll find someone who can."
Davis shook his head. He looked through the two way mirror at the woman sitting at the table. The box sat untouched in front of her.
"Miss Parker, please open the box, and complete the sim," Davis said firmly.
"I want to see my son first. You show me my son, and then we’ll talk."
"I can’t do that. The Director said if you complete the sim, he’ll let you see the child."
Parker’s lip flared, "The child! The child! Is that what you call him? He is my son! He has a name. He’s a human being. Now bring him to me!"
Davis jumped at the sudden outburst, "Please, don’t do this. Please, just finish the sim."
The door to the sim lab opened revealing two men dressed in black suits, "We’ll take it from here, Davis. You’re to report to the Tower for debriefing."
Parker got up quickly pushing the table into them, "Stay away from me."
One of the men went around the table trying to reach the angry woman. She spun kicking the advancing sweeper in the groin sending him down on his knees.
"Go around the other side," he screeched.
The other nodded grabbing her from behind pinning her arms up behind her, "Calm down, Miss Parker. We don’t want to get nasty, do we?"
"Let me go. You’re hurting me," Parker screamed.
The injured sweeper got up slowly favoring his groin. He glared at the security camera before slamming Parker in the face silencing her protests, "There, that will end that."
The image cutoff abruptly before starting again with another clip. Jarod felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She was strapped to a table while people dressed in surgical greens were busy preparing her for surgery. He swallowed hard as they made a small incision into Moira’s head, exposing her skull. Jarod watched tightlipped as the surgeons inserted something into Moira’s brain.
"Has the transmitter been implanted, Davis?" the same voice from the previous clip asked over the intercome.
Jarod saw the head surgeon turn looking into the security camera and nod. Jarod guessed the man to be Davis.
"All that needs to be done is the programming, and she’s good to go."
"She’ll be easier to control then?"
"Yes."
Jarod looked into the man’s face hating him, "She scares you that much, doesn’t she? "
"Daddy?"
Jarod closed the haliburton quickly. He turned seeing Jenna standing behind him, "Hey Sweetie."
"That man hurt mommy, " Jenna said through tears, "She’s scared, Daddy. He made her go away."
Jarod took Jenna into his arms, "We’re going to find her, Sweetheart. Daddy won’t rest until he does. She’ll be back with us soon. You’ll see."
Jenna sobbed into Jarod’s shoulder, "He made her go away, Daddy. He made her go."
"Jenna, listen to me," Jarod said firmly looking into his daughter’s eyes, "We’re going to get her back. Your mother and I were meant to be together. I won’t let anyone take her away. I promise."
Jenna wiped her eyes, "You promise."
"Cross my heart," Jarod said thickly.
"There you are," Sydney said smiling, "Martha has a plate of cookies in the kitchen for you. You better hurry, or else Uncle Angelo will eat them."
Jenna smiled wistfully, "He loves cookies. I just like to watch him. He has such a good time. He’s almost happy again. It’s great to see Uncle Angelo happy."
Jarod nodded, "Yes, it is. We’ll all be happy once we get your mother back."
Jarod waited until the little girl was gone. His smile vanished, "Look what came. It looks like the Centre is back in business."
Sydney watched the DSA viewer quietly while Jarod fingered the locket. He opened it again looking at the pictures. They were so young when they were taken. "They almost looked happy," Jarod mused looking at the wistful smile on Moira’s face. Jarod touched her picture tracing the curve of her face. The picture seemed crooked. He tried to straighten only to make it worse. The picture fell out onto the desk. Jarod saw the writing on the back, "The Parker-Brace Hotel. 7pm. Come alone. Be careful. They’re watching me."
Parker-Brace Hotel 7:15 pm
Dover, DE
Jarod waited in the lounge watching the hotel entrance. Whoever left the note was late. Something wasn’t right. They’re watching me. A bead of sweat rolled down Jarod’s face. Unconsciously he wiped it on his sleeve. Something wasn’t right. His instincts screamed at him to run, to get the hell out of there, but he waited drumming his fingers against the chair waiting.
He appeared through the hotel entrance nervous and out of breath. Jarod caught sight of him. He knew that face, the dark, Centre issue suit.
"Willie?"
Willie moved quickly frantically thrusting an envelope into Jarod’s hands, "You didn’t get this from me. I never came here. Mention my name, man, and I’ll deny everything."
Jarod stuffed the envelope into his coat pocket, "Willie, wait!"
Willie was gone disappearing into a throng of hotel guests, and then he saw them. They pulled up slowly. Jarod’s heart lurched into his throat seeing the familiar black sedans and the fast approaching sweeper team reaching the hotel entrance.
"Excuse me, Sir. Can you grab my bag?" A well dressed woman in her forties asked thrusting a wadded up piece of paper into Jarod’s hand.
Jarod grabbed her bag quickly getting into the elavator. The woman smiled.
"Whew! That was close."
Jarod looked at the woman curiously, "Excuse me, Madam? Do I know you?"
The woman laughed pulling off her middle aged mask revealing a very relieved Dana Scully, "Jesus, Jarod. Mulder told me you were desperate, but I didn’t think you were this stupid."
"I don’t understand. Why would Willie try to help me?"
Scully stared pointedly into Jarod’s eyes, "It was a trap, Jarod. The bastard set you up. He knew you would do anything to get Moira back, and you fell for it. It’s lucky for you, Sydney called us. You know that man really worries about you."
"You don’t understand. You don’t know how it is to be so close. I just want my life back, Scully. I want my children to have their mother back."
Scully opened the door to the hotel suite. She sighed placing her disguise on the bed, "There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t want to believe it, Jarod, but there’s reason to believe Moira was somehow responsible for the murders of several Centre operatives."
Jarod swallowed hard, "Moira would never hurt anyone. She’s not an assasin."
"I’m sorry, Jarod. I didn’t want to tell you this.."
"Tell me what?" Jarod demanded. His voice grew thick, "Tell me what, Agent Scully?"
"We were monitoring what we thought was a vitamin plant. It’s one of those surveillance jobs Mulder and I landed after the X-Files were shut down. We got a call of some sort of disturbance, but we arrived too late."
"Moira’s not a killer," Jarod said angrily.
"Jarod, please. You’re not making this any easier. I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to say this, but the bodies. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things, Jarod. I’ve seen bodies disintegrate before my eyes, but this was.."
".. a massacre, Jarod. Someone or something brutally tore through these people like nothing I’ve ever seen," Mulder said morosely.
Jarod spun facing Mulder, "If you’re accusing my wife of this, you’re wrong."
"We have reason to believe Moira may have had something to do with this..."
Jarod swore, "How do you know this. You have proof?"
Mulder nodded. He turned on the vcr, "We found these surveillance videos at the scene."
Jarod watched them in stunned silence. The carnage was like nothing he had ever seen. It was hard to believe these bodies were humans, and then he saw her. He moved closer to the tv screen. She was curled up in a fetal position rocking back and forth silently. Her eyes seemed to stare directly into the camera, directly into his. Jarod swallowed hard, "She didn’t do this, Mulder. It’s not in her. It’s not in her eyes."
Mulder frowned, "I want to believe you, Jarod. I loved her too."
The phone rang. Scully answered it, "Yes, I see. Okay, I’m on my way."
Jarod watched the FBI Agents. His mind started to fill in the pieces. There was something missing. The envelope stuffed into his coat pocket, seeing Willie, Raines’ personal henchman, and now the surveillance tapes. It didn’t make sense. The Centre would have destroyed the tapes. They wouldn’t have left them around unless they wanted them found.
"You know for Federal Agents, you guys are really gullible," Jarod laughed derisively, "I think there’s something else going on here. I think there’s something you haven’t told me, Agent Sully."
Scully looked quickly at Mulder, "I know this is hard for you, Jarod. It would be hard on anyone.."
"Cut the crap, Agent Scully! Who was on the phone?"
Mulder shook his head. Scully glared at him silencing him.
"Come on, Agent Mulder, tell me what’s going on."
Mulder sighed, "The remains found at the plant were not exactly human, Jarod."
"Mulder, that’s enough!" Scully growled angrily.
Mulder shook his head, "I’m sorry we weren’t exactly forthcoming, Jarod, but if this gets out to the general public, we could have a state of nationwide panic.."
"You said the remains were not ‘exactly human.’ If they’re not human, then what are they? And what does my wife have to do with this?"
"The Centre was working together with another private agency known as Magestic 12. They were big in the 60’s. They were unofficially in charge of all UFO sightings. The public never knew about them. There’s reason to believe they were trying to arrange a cover-up. It seems that there was evidence to suggest invasion. These creatures called themselves the hive..."
Jarod nodded, "I’ve read about them. They took human form. They implanted these creatures into the heads of their victims which eventually transformed them into aliens."
"They were exposed, and all of the evidence was destroyed in a fire."
"Not all of the evidence, Mulder. They never did find the man responsible for turning them in. I believe his name was John Lowengardner. Sydney had me do a sim of him. The Centre wanted to know how much he knew."
Scully frowned, "I think they were using Moira, but I can’t figure out why. The Centre’s clean up crew never had a chance to do their job. It appears they became victims as well. I think some of the remains are some sort of alien human hybrid."
Jarod rewound the tape watching it again. He paused it, and then rewound it watching again, "I think I see something. It looks like a shadow. There was something in the room with her. I need to have Broots look at this."
Scully shook her head, "We can’t let you do that. You already know too much."
Jarod seemed to ignore her as he continued watching the tape, "Tell me, Mulder. Is this the only surveillance video from the incident?"
"I believe so. Why?"
Jarod studied the video closely tracing the shadow that seemed to appear over Moira, "It’s standing over her."
Mulder follewed Jarod’s eyes seeing the shadow, "You’re right."
"This isn’t a surveillance video, Agent Scully. It’s too close. Centre surveillance cameras are usually mounted high up on the wall, so they can get the whole room."
"They could have had a zoom," Scully offered.
"No zoom could capture this angle, " Jarod said frowning, "We’re looking directly at her. Whoever was holding the camera is the one responsible for this carnage. Find him, and you have your killer."
"That still doesn’t explain why your wife was the only survivor," Scully frowned.
Jarod swallowed hard, "She’s useful to them. Her gift, what she can see, is worth a fortune to the Centre."
Scully rolled her eyes at Mulder, "Lots of people claim to be psychics, Jarod, but you don’t see the Centre kidnapping them."
"If that were all she was capabable of, she would have been dead years ago. It’s her ability to see into people, find out their secrets, and then shape reality to encompass them, " Jarod sighed, "It’s hard to explain. It’s what she did to Lyle. She saw what he was. She saw his madness for what it was, a feeling of abandonment, and then she became all of the women he killed as a means of turning him inside out. He claimed he could only see their eyes."
"Mr. Lyle went crazy, didn’t he?" Mulder asked softly remembering the interview he had with Lyle. "He couldn’t put two words together. What was it he kept repeating?"
Jarod nodded, "They’re watching me. I can’t get away. They’re watching me."
"Many psychopaths have similar delusions, Jarod." Scully said frowning.
"I thought that at first, but hearing him ranting about their eyes made me almost pity him. He can’t seem to get away from them. I used to want to kill him for what he did to me, to my brother, to my family, but not now. Now, I feel sorry for him. He was as much a victim as I was."
Scully frowned, "You feel sorry for him?"
"In a way, yes. He may be the only way of finding Moira, and killing him would be killing her," Jarod said thickly, "I just keep hoping he’ll become lucid just long enough to find out where they’re keeping her. That’s all I wish for, Scully."
Scully nodded, "I understand, Jarod. I need to take off. Mulder, I’ll check in with you later, and Jarod, be careful. I know you want to trust this Willie character, but he works for the Centre."
Jarod nodded, "He risked a lot by coming here, Scully. If the Centre found out he was trying to help me, they would declare him a Section 7, persona non grata, and to be shot on sight."
Scully shook her head, "Mulder, I’ll call you later."
Jarod watched as Agent Scully left the room. He sat quietly staring down at the floor thinking. Aliens, Moira, dead bodies not exactly human, sweepers turning on the Centre.. "They’re afraid of something, Agent Mulder. The Centre got involved with something more powerful than they can handle, and now they’re scared."
"You said you did sims for the Centre involving Magestic 12. Do you have records of them?"
Jarod shook his head, "We have nothing, Agent Mulder. Everything, every record, every file was destroyed when the FBI stormed the Blue Cove facility. We may have the building, but that’s all we have. It seems the Blue Cove branch has become expendable."
"Those records exist, Jarod. They have to be kept somewhere. The Centre couldn’t have just destroyed everything."
Jarod shook his head angrily, "Come on, Mulder, get a clue. The United States government couldn’t risk exposing what they found. They couldn’t tell the American public that there are a bunch of alien hybrids running around pretending to be human."
"I don’t believe you. They couldn’t have destroyed them, Jarod. They couldn’t have destroyed 30 years of research."
"Think about it, Mulder. Why do you think they destroyed the X-Files? Why do they have you and Agent Scully doing shit detail while they promote that young upstart who couldn’t find his own ass without his father drawing him a fucking diagram?"
"I don’t believe that, Jarod. There are records. We just have to get to them. We have to expose the Centre for the bastards they are, and if you can’t see that, then there’s something you’re not telling me."
Jarod looked down at the floor. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Mulder he was right. There were records of the Pretender Project, but along with those records lay the truth behind the government cover-up. Roswell was just the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more evidence, evidence the American public would never see, could never see. His sim for Majestic 12 proved this point. He could still see the fear in John’s eyes. He had watched the footage of Lowengardner being led away in a straight jacket, and the look in the old man’s eyes still haunted Jarod. They’re out there. They’re going to kill us. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? "They do believe you, John. They’re the ones who are coming to kill us," Jarod thought morosely.
The sim itself was not to determine whether John Lowengardner was telling the truth, but more to determine how much he knew, and how dangerous had he become. After the sim, the Centre severed its ties with Majestic 12, and the records of John Lowengardner suddenly disappeared along with all evidence of the Hive.
"Sydney, I don’t understand. If there are alien life forms out there, shouldn’t the public be told? What if the Hive really exist?"
"They don’t, Jarod. There are no alien life forms out to get us. John Lowengardner is a very sick man. You simmed him yourself and found evidence to support this."
"But what if he’s not crazy? What if I made a mistake? How do I know if I’m not hive?"
Sydney had laughed at him. He was so young then. He would have believed anything, but after seeing Roswell and the alien corpses, he knew the Hive had existed, and John Lowengardner was not crazy.
"If I tell you something, Mulder, will you promise to keep it in this room?"
"That depends on what it is."
"It’s important to have your word that what I tell you stays between us," Jarod said thickly.
"Alright, Jarod. The suspense is killing me."
"I think the Centre is trying to use Moira to cover their tracks," Jarod began. His voice sounded hollow as he envisioned Moira’s eyes. They had the same haunted look he saw in Lowengardner’s.
"I’m listening."
"She’s the link between the past and present. She holds the key.."
"The key to what?".
"She holds the key to the vortex. The Centre needs to cover it’s tracks. It all makes sense now," Jarod said thinking. He saw the pattern begin to take shape in his mind. He who controls the past controls the future.
"I think you’ve lost me, Jarod."
"What if I told you it was possible to go back in time?"
"I would say you were crazy, Jarod."
"What about the Philadelphia project, Mulder?"
"The Philadelphia project was a hoax, made up by some poor slob who wanted to get his name in the paper."
"That’s the company line, Fox. Since when did you start buying?"
"I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself, Jarod. I respect you because you are a genius, but time travel, the vortex? Come on. Don’t you hear yourself?"
Jarod stared into Mulder’s face not seeing him. His thoughts raced searching to make sense of the puzzle. They want to cover their tracks. How? By erasing the past. They need Moira to navigate through the vortex. That’s why you want her. She knows what scares you. She knows your dirty little secrets, and now you’re going to use her to erase them. He could see it now. The old anger rose choking him forcing him to swallow hard.
"Jarod? Hey? Are you there? I think you’re too emotionally involved."
"Yeah, I guess you’re right, Mulder. I guess I’m too close," Jarod said thickly. He wanted Mulder’s help, but there was still too many unanswered questions. He would leave Mulder out of it for now until he knew exactly what they were dealing with.
"I can reach you at Blue Cove?"
Jarod nodded, "If I’m not there, talk to Sydney. He can reach me."
"We’ll find her, Jarod. I promise," Mulder said reassuringly.
Jarod nodded, "I know you’ll do your best."
Blue Cove, DE
"Jarod, we’ve been over this a hundred times.."
"Then we’ll go over it some more. Tell me how to get through the vortex!"
"Out of the question!" Sydney yelled pounding the desk with his fist sending the framed picture of the Beaudette family portrait flying towards the floor.
Jarod reached out trying to capture it only to hear the glass shatter as it hit, "Why won’t you help me, Sydney? What are you so afraid of?"
Sydney stared at the broken glass, "Everything was so perfect. You, Moira, and the children."
Jarod swallowed hard, "Sydney, please. Please help me!"
"No, Jarod. I won’t risk it. It’s too dangerous."
Jarod frowned. He was so close. He could almost smell her perfume, feel the softness of her skin, her warm breath on his face. He could almost hear her laughing. He had waited for so long missing her. He stayed up nights wondering what they did to her, wondering what they did to make her go away. And now after reading the note from Willie, he had a chance to save her, to bring her back, to reunite her with the family who remained incomplete without her.
"I know what you’re thinking, Jarod. I know how much you miss her, but getting yourself lost in the vortex will not bring her back."
"I won’t get lost," Jarod said thickly, "This is not something I thought up last night, Sydney. I know what I’m doing."
Sydney swore clenching his fist. He got up covering the distance between himself and the Pretender in one step, "Do you?"
Jarod stepped forward meeting Sydney eye to eye, "I need your help. You’re the only one who knows how to navigate the vortex. You’re the only one she’ll trust."
"Impossible," Sydney growled, "I won’t risk it."
Jarod sighed in disgust, "Don’t make me ask her."
Sydney glared angrily, "And what makes you think Laura will help you? What was it she told you the last time you saw her? Wasn’t it ‘rot in hell?’"
"She’ll help me. She and Moira were friends."
Sydney shook his head, "That witch doesn’t have any friends."
"It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand. I know her. She owes Moira, and she knows it. She’ll help me," Jarod repeated.
"Fine, then, " Sydney said angrily, "You’re on your own. I won’t be a party to your suicide."
The door slammed leaving Sydney alone. It was inevitable now. The chain of events was set in motion. Jarod would go find Laura, and then everything would unravel.
"You can’t give up, Sydney."
"He won’t listen. I’ve tried, Jacob. He’s so damned pig-headed."
"I knew someone once who was just as pig-headed, brother."
Sydney sighed, "If he is that stubborn, it’s only because I raised him."
"You have to tell him everything, Syd. You have to tell him who we are. It’s the only way."
Sydney took a deep breath. How many times had Jarod asked him for the truth, and how many times had he told Jarod half-truths. Sydney couldn’t count. Telling Jarod the truth now could destroy him.
"Tell him, Sydney!"
"I can’t. Not now."
"You can’t hide the truth anymore, Sydney. Jarod must be told."
Sydney watched as his brother faded. His thoughts were racing. He had to stop Jarod somehow. The three years of searching and waiting for Lyle to be lucid enough to speak coherently had made the Pretender desperate. He would do anything to get Moirranda back even if it destroyed him. Sydney couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen. He picked up the phone.
"Hello, this Sydney. I need the Leer gassed and ready to go. I’ll be going alone."
Sun City West
Arizona
Mr. Parker smiled as the elderly woman in the ridiculous red blazer handed him the keys to his new home. "I’m sure, you’ll love it here, Mr. Parker. There are so many nice people here. I’m sure you’ll find some who shares the same interests."
Parker nodded standing in the doorway of the newly remodeled castille. It was way too big for just him, but he loved the secluded courtyard, and the bricked in back yard. Most of the houses he saw had either chain link fences or nothing at all. This one would do nicely.
"I left some literature on the kitchen counter. The recreation center is off of R.H. Johnson. It’s real easy to get to. There’s a map on the back of the brochure, and if you like to golf, there’s a nice course just off of Rock Springs Drive."
Mr. Parker nodded politely, "Yes, thanks. I’ll definitely look into it."
The woman, Vera Higgins, frowned, "You said on the phone you had a daughter. How old is she? The community has a strict rule regarding children..."
"It’s why I came here, Mrs. Higgins. My daughter is 32, so you don’t have to worry about her getting under foot."
Mrs. Higgins frowned, "It’s such a shame these days. Grown children moving back home with their parents. My son, Martin, got divorced, and now we can’t get rid of him. The poor dear doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s so lost without that woman, but I guess it’s for the best. You know, she got the house."
Mr. Parker smiled politely, "Well, I better get my daughter. She’s sitting in the car, and she’ll want to take a nap. It feels as if we’ve spent the last two months living on TV dinners and sleeping in roadside motels."
Mrs. Higgins nodded as she watched Mr. Parker walk towards the car. The woman sat unmoved in the passenger seat. He opened the door, and reached in taking the young woman’s arm leading her out of the car towards the house. She stared down at the pavement as she walked by.
"Hi, sweetie," Mrs. Higgins chirped brightly.
The young, pretty brunette, gazed at Mrs. Higgins quietly.
"My, you are very pretty. What’s your name?"
Mr. Parker ushered Moira into the foyer before shutting the security door behind him. He turned to Mrs. Higgins frowning, "I’m sorry, but my daughter is recovering from a horrible accident. It’s real hard for her to meet new people."
"I’m sorry. What kind of accident?"
Parker frowned, "Her husband never saw it coming. It all happened so fast. They said the driver of the other car had a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit."
"How awful for her," Miss Higgins said sadly.
Parker nodded, "They had four children. It’s a miracle she survived. I think she blames herself."
"Well, if you need anything, I left my card on the table."
Parker nodded as he waved before stepping inside the house closing the door behind him. His daughter stood quietly in the foyer where he had left her.
"I think this place will be good for us, Angel. A new start..."
Parker placed his hand on Moira’s shoulder squeezing it reassuringly. He looked into her vacant eyes and swallowed hard. He hated seeing her like this. Whatever they did to her, he hoped could be undone. He wondered if he was really saving her. He wondered if it was worth it?
Blue Cove, DE
Renewal Wing
"How long has he been like this?"
"Since last night. He’s very aggitated, Sydney. Are you sure you want to go in there?"
Sydney watched Lyle through the double window, "This might be the break we’re looking for, Broots."
Broots backed away as the guard unlocked the door, "He’s pretty messed up, Syd. Are you sure you want to go in there alone?"
Sydney nodded, "If Jarod calls, put him through immediately."
The door slammed shut. Sydney heard the lock as it slid into place. Lyle sat in the corner rocking against the wall humming.
"What is it, Mr. Lyle?" Sydney asked softly.
Lyle screamed getting to his feet in a flash charging across the room, "Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that."
Sydney nodded, "Of course, I’m sorry. What would you like me to call you?"
Lyle stood staring at Sydney. His lips quivered as he struggled to make them form words, "My name is Wesley. I love the beach. Mom used to take me there."
Sydney nodded, "You remember the beach, Wesley."
Lyle nodded. He looked like a lost child, and then his face contorted in rage, "They stole me. They took me away. I hate them. I hate those bastards."
Sydney frowned, "Who took you, Wesley? Do you remember what they looked like?"
Lyle screamed. His eyes grew wide in fear, "Can’t tell. The bad man is mad. Make him stop! Ow! Make it stop!"
"Make what stop? What’s happening, Wesley?" Sydney asked moving toward the howling man.
Lyle threw himself against the wall, "No! Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. I can’t stop it."
"Stop what, Lyle?" Sydney asked again realizing his mistake too late. Lyle raced towards him screaming. His face contorted in rage as he pummelled the older man.
"You alright in there?" a voice shouted from the hallway.
Sydney pushed Lyle away forcefully. He got up brushing the dirt off of his slacks. Lyle stared at him in awe.
"We’re fine, aren’t we, Wes?" Sydney said evenly, "There’s nothing to worry about. It was nothing."
Lyle backed away in terror, "Oh no...Oh God..Oh please. Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean it."
Sydney frowned, "The men who kidnapped you where the same ones who took Jarod, n’est pas?"
Lyle’s eyes grew big with fear, "Yes."
"Where they the same one’s who took my niece?"
Lyle nodded slowly, "Yes."
"Do you know who they are?"
Lyle took a ragged breath, "I remember everything about that day. I remember the smell of the beach, the feel of the sand between my toes, and my mother. She screamed at me to run. I tried. I ran as fast as I could, but they were always there."
"What did these men look like? Were they sweepers?"
"They all looked the same. They all had the same dark glasses."
"Lots of the sweepers wear dark glasses. How can you be sure they weren’t sweepers?"
Lyle turned away from Sydney. He stared at the light gray walls, "I know sweepers, and these guys were not them."
"And you say, you saw them take my niece from the car before the accident. Why her? Why didn’t they take you too? They took you before."
"They wanted the child."
"What child? What are you talking about?"
"She told me it was mine, but I knew it was Jarod’s. I tried to tell them it was mine. They wouldn’t have taken her if it was mine. They weren’t interested in me. They wanted a Pretender, one they could mold, one to make up for the ones they lost."
Sydney growled menacingly, "You better be telling the truth. If I find out you’re lying, Lyle, I’ll hurt you."
Lyle turned towards Sydney. Tears streaked down his face, "I wanted her to help me. I would have done anything for her. She promised to help me find my mother. She said if I was good, she would help me."
"You could help her now, Wesley. Tell us where they’re holding her. Tell us, and we can save her."
Lyle shook his head, "Ask Mr. Parker. He knows everything."
The door opened. Broots hung back nervously, "Jarod’s on the phone. He sounds angry."
Sydney nodded, "I’ll take it in my office. We’ll continue this later, Wesley."
Lyle nodded, "She said she would help me."
Sydney closed the door watching the young man as he sat back down on the floor, "He’s not messed up, Broots. He’s scared."
"Did Lyle say where they were holding Miss Parker?"
"No, but he knows someone who does," Sydney fumed.
"Sydney, who is it?"
"Find Parker, Broots. Find that bastard."
Broots took a step back. His mouth hung open, "You think he’s working for the Centre again?"
"I don’t know what to think. He knows something. He knows what happened to my niece."
"I’ll get right on it, Syd."
Seattle, WA
Jarod fumed quietly mentally calculating how much this call was costing him. He’d been on hold for 10 minutes, and the muzak was irritating him to no end. He was on his third time through of "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" when the muzak ended abruptly.
"Sydney, here," Sydney said evenly.
Jarod took a deep breath before speaking, "Tell me something, Sydney. What would make someone suddenly pick up and move?"
Sydney sighed, "I gather things with Laura didn’t go well."
Jarod resisted the urge to hang-up, "Let’s just say they didn’t go at all."
"I’m sorry, Jarod. I know you were hoping Laura could help you."
"Save it, Syd? I want to know what you did to make her disappear."
"Jarod, you know how Laura is. She’s probably hiding out from the IRS or something."
Jarod cursed slamming his fist on one of the information counters. He glared at the people staring at him, "My wife is in danger. Laura owed her. She fucking owed her."
"I hate to say this, Jarod, but Laura is a flake. You know that better than anyone, and cursing at me is not going to help Moirranda."
Jarod sighed realizing the truth in the old doctor’s words. Getting angry never solved anything. It only made things worse.
"Jarod, are you still there?"
"Yes, I’m here."
"Come home. I think Lyle gave us something we can use to find Moirranda."
"Does he know where she is?"
"No, but he knows someone who does. We’ll talk when you get back."
Jarod nodded, "I’m on my way."
Sun City West, AZ
He heard the scream even before he got out of the car. "Christ," Parker uttered under his breath, "What is it this time?"
Nurse Anne Pitman stood inside the screen door, "I won’t stay here another minute, Mr. Parker. I don’t know what your daughter’s problem is, but I suggest you get her some professional help because I can’t take it anymore."
Parker sighed in frustration, "What did she do this time?"
"Don’t you hear her screaming? She’s been screaming ever since she woke up."
"I gave you the tranquilizers. Why didn’t you give it to her?"
"As if I could get close enough to that bitch..."
Parker grabbed the nurse by the color of her newly starched uniform, "My daughter is not a bitch. Don’t you ever call her that."
"Let go of me, Mr. Parker."
Parker released his hold on the nurses collar and backed away, "Get out."
"With pleasure," Anne Pitman yelled angrily.
Parker watched the nurse drive off before opening the door to the house. He couldn’t hear himself think with her screaming. He took a deep breath stealing himself for another run-in with his daughter.
Angel," he called out as he grew closer to her, "Angel, it’s me, Daddy."
As if on cue, she disappeared behind the island. He couldn’t see her except for her shoes. Blue Keds. The same she wore as a little girl before going away to school where she couldn’t wear them anymore. He remembered that argument as if it were yesterday. Her voice on the other end of the phone defiant.
"Daddy, tell them I can wear my tennis shoes."
He had played diplomat then. He promised she could wear her Keds at home on break. He wished it were that simple. Now, he had no idea how to reach her.
"Angel," Parker repeated tentatively. He was half afraid of what she would do next. The kitchen table lay upturned against the pantry along with one of the chairs. "There was definitely a battle this morning," he thought.
He didn’t see it coming. The glass hit him in the face cutting his cheek, "What the Hell!"
Parker caught himself before his temper got the best of him. He was tired of the constant turmoil. He wanted a return to normality. He would give anything to have it back. He wanted so much to run to her, to take her in his arms, and make all of the bad things go away. That’s what father’s did. They made the world safe for their little girls, but he could do nothing for his little girl. He couldn’t even brush by her without her shrieking.
"She can’t stand to be touched," Davis had explained after he handed her over. It was a trade, "Forget about the child, and we’ll forget about its mother."
He hated doing it, but he got his little girl back, and that was what he had worked for.
"She’s pretty well tranqued up. Just make sure she stays that way until you get to where you’re going," Davis had warned.
Parker was not a man to take advice much less orders. Luckily for him, she was malnourished, and couldn’t do much besides howl. It was a different story now. She was still too thin for her 5’10" frame, but she was wiry, quick, and full of rage. The little girl he loved was gone replaced by this madwoman. He had to do something. He had been away too long this time.
Counting the nurse from today would bring the total to ten. They didn’t stay long. She was too unruly, too angry. Each one met him at the door with the keys.
"Sorry, pal. I ain’t staying. Find someone else to look after the bitch."
They didn’t understand. They couldn’t know the pain she had endured at the hands of those people. The things they did to her, they things they made her do made him sick.
"Angel, please. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s going to make it better."
She howled like a wounded animal as he approached. He took the dart gun from its place on top of the refrigerator, and loaded it. Her eyes grew wide when she caught sight of him standing over her with a it.
"It doesn’t have to be this way, Angel," Parker said softly, "If only you could see how much I love you. I don’t want to do this."
She sent one of the kitchen chairs at him. Parker sighed before he fired. He saw her wince as the dart punctured her skin. He stood waiting until the tranqualizers took effect. Her breathing grew more relaxed, and then her eyes closed as she collapsed against the wall. Parker breathed a sigh of relief. At least he would have peace for a few hours.
After she was firmly strapped in bed, Parker retired to his study. He closed the door carelful to lock it. "Old habits die hard," he thought tiredly.
The leather recliner felt comfortable, and for a moment Parker allowed his eyes to close. He opened them quickly. He couldn’t relax now. There were too many things that needed his attention. He couldn’t stay here much longer. He was supposed to be back in Delaware days ago. They would know something was up. Sydney didn’t trust him, the Pretender wanted him dead, and Lyle couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. He kept babbling about little green men with big eyes.
"They’re coming. The eyes. I can’t get away. I can’t hide."
Parker sighed, "I don’t know who’s crazier; Lyle or my daughter, or maybe I’m the one who’s crazy. Maybe I should have let well enough alone."
Out of the corner of his eye, Parker caught sight of something shiny on his desk. He reached for it picking up a silver framed photograph. He stared at it for a long moment before letting out a loud sob.
"I’m sorry, Angel. I’m sorry they did this to you," he whispered thickly, "I’m sorry, Daddy couldn’t protect you."
Blue Cove, DE
Renewal Wing
"Who’s ‘Them’?" Jarod repeated patiently.
Lyle sat staring quietly at the floor.
"Answer me, please, Mr. Lyle. Who’s the ‘Them’ you keep referring to?"
"I’m not him! I keep telling you. I’m not him. Why won’t you believe me?" Lyle repeated. His voice cracked from exhaustion.
Jarod game him a wan smile, "And, why should I believe anything you say?"
Lyle looked up from the floor meeting the Pretender’s eyes, "Because it’s true."
Jarod sneered, "You killed my brother, you engineered the kidnapping of my wife and children, and you expect me to believe you? It would be just like you to lie just to protect your own skin."
Lyle nodded before looking away, "I’ve done some horrible things, and I can’t even begin to apologize for what I’ve done.."
"I don’t want your apologies, Lyle. I want answers. You can’t give me them, can you?"
"I told you everything I know, Jarod. What more do you want from me?"
"Who’s the ‘Them’?" Jarod repeated.
Lyle closed his eyes taking a deep breath exhaling slowly, "They’re not Centre. No, definitely not Centre. Their eyes. I can’t close my eyes without seeing them."
Jarod sighed in frustration. He saw Sydney standing just outside the door. He motioned to him he was done with the prisoner.
"Did you get anything, Jarod?"
"Nothing."
"We may have a lead on Parker. It seems he may have purchased a house somewhere in Arizona. Broots is getting the specifics. It looks promising."
"You think Parker knows anything? I keep thinking we’re missing something, Sydney. Why would Parker talk to Lyle?"
"I’ve wondered that myself, Jarod."
"I wonder," Jarod began. The pattern started to take shape. "With all of the houses that bastard owns, why purchase another?"
"I was thinking the same thing, Jarod. Parker’s hiding something from us."
"Find him, and we find my wife," Jarod said thickly.
Broots looked up as the two men entered, "I’m trying to get in touch with the real estate agency Parker used. He used several alias’. Looks like he had help."
"Where’s the house, Broots?" Sydney asked.
"I’m working on it, Syd," Broots replied without looking up from the keyboard.
The two men stood watching the computer programmer patiently.
"This could be awhile," Broots said nervously.
"We’ll wait," Jarod and Sydney said in unison.
Parker Residence
Sun City West, AZ
"Daddy?"
Parker opened his eyes and smiled, "Hi, Angel."
"It’s time, Daddy," the little girl said softly.
He studied the child’s face remembering what it was like to hold her in his lap, to smell her little girl smell. He missed it. He missed her.
"Time for what, Angel?" he asked softly.
"You have to let her go, Daddy. She’s not happy here."
"How about giving your old man a hug? Remember we used to sit on the porch together at the Summer house? God, how I miss those days, don’t you?"
The little girl shook her head, "Daddy, please."
Parker swallowed hard, "I can’t."
The little girl frowned, "You have to let her go. She’ll die. She’ll die like the others. Is that what you want, Daddy?"
"No one’s going to die, Angel. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you anymore."
"The way you hurt me, Daddy? I remember what you did. You didn’t think I would, but I did."
He stared into the child’s eyes seeing an image of himself standing over her, "Nonsense, you couldn’t have. You were too young."
The child’s face grew defiant. Her voice grew deep resembling an adult’s, "I remember. I remember everything about the basement. You wanted me to forget, but I remember everything."
Parker trembled, "I wanted to protect you."
The child sneered. Her eyes grew cold, "No, you wanted to protect your investment."
"You don’t know what you’re talking about. I protected you. They were going to take you away. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to my Angel. Not to my baby."
"The same way you protected Jarod? The others?"
"You don’t understand, Angel. Jarod was different," Parker explained. The child’s face grew hard and full of malice.
"Oh, I understand, Daddy. I understand everything."
"Nonsense," Parker spat angrily.
"They hurt me, Daddy. They put something in my head. It will never be over until you make it over."
"You’re safe. Daddy will protect you. No one will hurt you here."
"Let me go. Let me go before it’s too late," the little girl said staring into her father’s eyes.
Parker swallowed hard trying to look away from her pleading eyes, "I can’t, Angel. I love you. I’d die without my Angel."
The little girl started to sob. Her blue eyes tore into Parker burning them into his memory, "Help me, Daddy. Don’t let them hurt me. Please, Daddy. They’re hurting me. They’re hurting me. Make them stop."
His heart ached for her. She wasn’t real, but the pain was. He gasped feeling winded. He started to sweat, and then he heard the screams. She was up again. He jumped knocking the picture from his lap. He bent to pick it, but gave up. From the sounds of her screams, she must have had another night terror.
"Angel," Parker yelled trying to hear himself over the din, "Angel, knock it off. You’re going to wake the neighborhood with all that racket."
She screamed louder when she saw him standing in the doorway. He grabbed the syringe from the dresser plunging it into the vial filling it with the tranquilizer making sure to get the air bubble off of the needle before he approached his daughter.
"Hey, there, Angel," Parker said softly hoping his soothing words would quiet the screaming woman. They didn’t. Instead, he injected the tranquilizer into her arm, "There you go, Angel. All better now."
"No, not better. Hurt, Daddy. Hurt bad," she mumbled sleepily.
Parker gazed into his daughter’s eyes. For a brief moment, the little girl he loved had come back. Her eyes pleaded with him. He smoothed away the tears that continued to streak down her face, "I’m sorry they hurt you, Baby. I never wanted this to happen. You have to believe me. I love you."
"Daddy," she said softly before her eyes grew dim, and she began to get a far away look in her eyes, "Daddy, help.."
"No, please. Angel, don’t. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you," Parker said gripping the edge of the bed. He got up shaking. He was losing her. He could feel her slipping through his fingertips. Whatever they did to her had accomplished the desired result. She couldn’t tell anyone about the horror she suffered. Whatever they did was forever hidden way into that dark place she retreated into. All to protect their mistake.
"We can’t have her spilling her guts to the Feds."
It was his decision to keep her out of the project, but she always had a way of finding secrets. He should have known he couldn’t keep the truth from her. He should have allowed Catherine to leave. He should have let her take Moira, Jarod, and Timmy away from the Centre. He should have helped them escape. At least Moira would have been safe.
"Hindsight is always twenty-twenty," a familiar voice wheezed behind him.
Parker turned seeing the lone figure standing in the doorway. He rubbed his eyes trying to get the sleep out of them, "You can’t be here, Raines. You’re dead."
Raines chuckled, "You were always so literal. Everything was always black and white with you, Parker."
"What the Hell do you want?"
"I come with a message. Hell is far worse than anything you could imagine."
"My conscience is clear unlike yours, Raines. I wasn’t the one who played God. Gemini wasn’t my idea."
"I don’t recall you stopping me. Enough! The past is over. I didn’t come here to dwell on it."
Parker sighed, "Then why did you come?"
"I came to help."
Parker frowned, "I don’t need your help. Everything’s under control."
"You were always so good at hiding the truth, and now you hide it from yourself."
"Damn you, Raines! Leave me alone."
"I can’t. I can’t let it end this way."
"What the Hell are you babbling about?"
"You don’t have much time. You’re not safe here. You need to get her back to Jarod. He and Sydney are the only ones who can help her now."
"That’s ridiculious. I’m not bringing her back to him, not to Jarod," Parker said furiously.
"Then stay. Wait for the Triumverate. See how she fares with them."
Parker swore, "We had a deal. They had no use for her. They have the child. They don’t need her."
"You had no deal. You can’t expect to make a deal with the Devil, and expect him to play by the rules."
"I don’t believe this. I can’t believe they would do this. They have what they want. They have their little prodigy. Why can’t they leave her alone? Haven’t they done enough to her?"
Raines leaned in close to Parker staring him in the eyes, "You forget who we’re dealing with. Why can’t they leave her alone? They can’t because they enjoy hurting people. They get off on it, and besides, she’s a loose end. She’s the only one who knows everything."
"She’s no threat to them."
"Oh, but she is, Parker. Take her back to Blue Cove. Let Jarod and Sydney help her, and we can put an end to them finally once and for all."
"I don’t get it. Why is it so important to you, Raines? What’s in it for you?"
Raines smiled sadly, "I have my reasons."
The phone rang. Parker stared at the phone waiting.
"Answer it! It’s Davis," Raines hissed.
Parker picked up the receiver, "What!"
"Mr. Parker, it’s Davis. We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Parker asked staring at Raines in awe.
"The Triumverate is not happy with the present state of things. Your both in great danger."
"Tell him to get out of there, Parker. You’ll need his help if you’re ever going to undo the damage they’ve done to Miss Parker," Raines hissed.
"Mr. Parker, are you still there?"
"Get out! Get of there immediately! They know!" Parker whispered urgently, "I’ll pick you up at the airport. Don’t trust anyone. Remember your training."
Sydney’s Office
Blue Cove, DE
"I like your idea, Jarod. Moira would have liked it too. It has a great sense of irony to it."
Jarod smiled sadly, "I thought it only keeping that a place that once destroyed so many lives would help heal its victims. I would like it if you would stay. We could use a good psychiatrist."
"I’m glad you feel that way. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Jarod."
Jarod nodded, "We still have a ways to go."
The phone rang. Sydney picked it up, "Sydney, here."
"It’s Davis. Parker just called. He’s coming in. He has his daughter with him."
Sydney motioned to Jarod to sit down. He began scribbling frantically, "Parker has her. He and Davis are coming in."
"I see," Sydney nodded, "We’ll be ready for her."
"There may be a problem," Davis continued, "The implant is live. I thought you should know."
"Of course," Sydney said nodding, "I appreciate your help. I know this puts you in great danger. My offer still stands."
"What offer?" Jarod mouthed.
Sydney motioned for Jarod to wait, "Yes, you’d be safe here."
Jarod grabbed the pen out of Sydney’s hand. He scribbled furiously, "What about the child. Is he with them?"
Sydney opened his mouth to ask when the line went dead, "Davis? Davis?"
Jarod sighed in frustration, "I won’t rest until I have my family back together. At least we found Moira. Now, I can tell the kids their mother is coming home."
Sydney frowned. He massaged his temple with both hands, "Jarod, I think there’s something you should know."
"What is it, Sydney?"
"I don’t want to alarm you, Jarod, but Moirranda is in bad shape. They’re keeping her under heavy sedation. I’m afraid it’s pretty serious."
Jarod stood up again. His face was ashen. He turned away from Sydney as the familiar rage fought to take control, "What did those monsters do to her?"
"I doubt we’ll ever know the full extent," Sydney began, "Davis won’t talk about it."
Jarod swore loudly. His eyes formed into narrow slits, "I’ll kill them, Sydney. I’ll kill those bastards with my bare hands."
"Jarod, calm down, please. Now is not the time to lose control. The important thing is that we found her, and she’s safe. She’s alive, Jarod. We have to thank God for that."
Jarod swallowed hard remembering the images of the DSA’s, "They put something in her head. Some kind of transmitter. Do you think they can trace her?"
Sydney frowned, "It’s a neurotransmitter designed to stimulate the nerve centers of the brain. It sends small jolts of electricity to these centers causing severe pain."
"It’s how they controlled her. They couldn’t get her to do what they wanted, so they shocked her. They shocked her the same way they shocked Kyle," Jarod said angrily.
"I know this is hard, Jarod. It’s hard on us all."
"I want it removed."
Sydney sighed, "I don’t know if it can."
"What do you mean it can’t? I want it removed," Jarod growled, "I will not allow my wife to suffer like this. It’s cruel and inhuman."
"Jarod, I’m working on it. The device is live. Any attempts to remove it could set it off."
"Christ!," Jarod exploded, "They’ve won. They always win."
Sydney caught hold of Jarod’s shoulder turning him around, "I’m going to do everything in my power to help her. I love her too. I won’t give up on her, Jarod. We have to believe. It’s the only way we can help her."
Tears streaked down Jarod’s face. He collapsed heavily into the chair, "Jenna dreams of Moira. She says she’s gone. I don’t know what to tell her, Syd. She says her mother went away to the dark place."
Sydney frowned deeply, "I’ve known your wife ever since she was a little girl. The dark place was her way of shutting down. Catherine warned me to keep her out. I’m afraid this could be far worse than I thought."
"I need to go throught the vortex, Sydney. If she’s there, I have to convince her to come back."
Sydney shook his head, "I’ve tried, Jarod."
"She’ll listen to me. I know she will. You have to help me. I can’t do it alone. Tell me how to reach her, Sydney. Tell me what to do to get to her, and I’ll do the rest."
Sydney sighed. He felt a headache begin to form at the base of his neck, "I have to think about this, Jarod. The vortex is a very dangerous place."
"More dangerous than the Centre?"
"Believe it or not, Jarod, there are places far more dangerous than the Centre. The vortex, if you’re not careful, can suck you into it. It will rob you of your sanity if you let it, and the longer you stay in the vortex, the less likely are you to leave it. Are you willing to take that chance?"
Jarod looked down at the floor, "I don’t have an alternative. The Centre robbed me of my family, even if they were only surrogates, they were still the people who cared for me as much as my real parents, and now they do this to the woman I love. I won’t let them deprive my children of a mother. I can’t. You have to understand, Sydney."
Sydney stared at Jarod in awe, "How did you know?"
"It doesn’t matter how. You were protecting them. After I was caught, and my dad and the boy escaped, things got pretty bad. My father wanted to rescue me. He would have given his own life, but you helped them disappear. It took me a long time to forgive you, but I do. I understand, but we’re getting off track here. Are you going to help me, or do I have to do this myself?"
"Jarod, please. Think of what you’re saying. You’re willing to risk everything. Think of the children. They need a father."
"They need a mother, Syd. I need my wife. Now, are you going to help me?"
The door to Sydney’s office opened. Broots came in. He looked at Jarod, and then at Sydney, "They just touched down on the helipad."
Jarod smiled, "Thanks, Broots."
"Jarod, wait!" Sydney warned.
Jarod turned frowning, "What is it, Sydney?"
"They told her you were dead, Jarod. Seeing you could send her over the edge if she’s not there already."
Jarod swore, "Those cruel, heartless, bastards!"
Broots cowered at the Pretender’s sudden outburst, "I’ll go to meet them, Syd."
"Broots, wait," Sydney said quietly, "Jarod, I’ve never seen you like this. As I said before, getting angry is not going to help Moira."
"Damn it, Syd!" Jarod exploded, "They told her I was dead. They’ve taken away everything I hold dear to me."
Sydney gripped Jarod’s shoulder squeezing it, "Don’t let them take away your mind, Jarod. Don’t let your anger control you. You’re better than that."
Jarod nodded swallowing hard, "She used to say that. She was always trying to get me to see how much I had in spite of the Centre."
Broots nodded, "Moira’s a smart woman. I used to be so scared of her, but I know now she was trying to protect us. If she showed any kindness, we would have all been dead. Listen to Sydney, Jarod. He knows what he’s doing."
Sydney smiled warmly at Broots, "I’m going to meet them. I’ll call you, Jarod, as soon as she’s settled in."
Jarod sat down heavily in the leather office chair. He was tired. He watched wearily as his friend and mentor left to meet his wife. He should have been the one to meet them. The lump in his throat grew larger threatening to choke him. He swallowed hard remembering the good times they spent at Fire Island. Images of Moira laughing came to him. She was laughing and smiling at him as he rough housed with the boys on the beach. He thought of Jack barbequing the "big" catch of the day, and Moira laughing.
"My big, macho men, are cooking up some mighty fine snapper."
Jack had laughed reading her lips, and Jarod had come up behind her pulling her towards him. He could still hear her laughing. She was a big kid at heart. The Centre had taken away her childhood, but it couldn’t take away her sense of humor."
"I made some mistakes, Jarod," a familiar voice wheezed behind him.
Out of habit, Jarod shivered, "What do you want, Raines? Tired of haunting SL-27?"
"I want to tell you something about your wife."
"You know nothing about her. All you wanted from her was to get out of your way. You tried to kill her once."
"I wasn’t aiming for her," Raines said hissed.
"You had her shot, and left her in the middle of the street to bleed to death. I don’t know why she forgave you," Jarod spat angrily.
"She came to me a few months before the explosion. She told me I was going to die. I didn’t want to believe her. I figured she was just threatening me because of what happened to her mother."
"So, why did you?" Jarod asked feigning interest.
"There were things about my past, my childhood, I’ve told no one," Raines wheezed, "She knew about my mother. She knew about everything."
Jarod chuckled sarcastically, "Oh, come on, Raines. We’ve all had tough childhoods, and we all know what you did to mine."
Raines gazed into Jarod’s eyes forcing the Pretender to gaze back, "She said I’d be going to Hell for what I’d done. I was such a bastard back then."
"You still are."
"She told me how I would be spending eternity."
Jarod laughed again, "Let me guess, it wasn’t very pleasant, was it?"
"Jarod, please. I never told anyone about my mother. She used to abuse me. She would wait for me to get home from school, and then she’d lay into me. I would hide in the broom closet for hours on end hoping the bitch would finally drink herself into oblivion. None of what happened in my childhood had ever been in my personnel file, and yet, your wife knew about it."
"Lots of children are abused, Raines, but they don’t turn into monsters."
"I wasn’t always a monster, Jarod. Your wife saw that. She gave me a choice. I could either spend eternity hiding in a broom closet listening to my mother’s drunken rages, or I could work for her. I think you know the outcome."
Jarod shook his head in disbelief, "I don’t believe your self-effacing act, so cut the bullshit, Raines, and tell me why you’re here."
"It’s not an act, Jarod. I want to help you. I know I can’t help make up for all the things the Centre took from you.."
"You mean the things you took from me," Jarod said thickly.
Raines nodded, "Yes, the things I took from you. I know I can’t make up for all the bad I’ve done in my life, but if I could just help you get your life back, I might be able to get a second chance."
"A second chance at what? You want a second chance to destroy more lives. My life wasn’t enough for you."
A solitary tear streaked down the old man’s face, "You have no reason to trust me. I’ve done unspeakable things in my life. I just want another chance to see her. God, I miss her so much. She was the only good thing in my life. She was my baby, my Annie."
Jarod looked at Raines in surprise. He had always suspected there was a connection between Raines and the little girl who disappeared almost thirty years ago, but he couldn’t confirm it.
"Annie was your daughter. You hated me for not being able to find her in time," Jarod said thickly.
"I hated a lot of people, Jarod. The day that sick, son of a bitch, kidnapped my little girl was the day my humanity ended. I didn’t care about the oath I took in medical school. I was a good doctor once, but he took that all away from me. He killed my baby, and I would do anything if I could see her again."
Jarod felt the old man’s despair. He saw the look of desperation in Raines’ ice, blue eyes, "How can I help you."
Raines shook his head, "You can’t help me, Jarod. I have to help you anyway I can. Go to the helipad. Sydney’s going to need you."
Helipad-North Entrance
Blue Cove, De
Sydney watched as the chopper made its approach. He waited until the chopper landed before immerging from the control station. He waved to Parker as he climbed down from the chopper. Davis followed along with another man wheeling Moira on a stretcher. She was silent as they grew closer.
"She was pretty quiet all the way from the airport. You ready for her, Sydney?" Davis asked.
Sydney nodded, "Everything’s set up."
He was about to say something more when he heard the approach of another chopper.
"Get her inside. Quickly! Looks like we got company," Sydney yelled above the noise.
Parker cursed as the chopper came closer circling around the helipad, "Sydney, get back!"
Sydney turned in time to see the three figures sitting in the chopper. The sharp shooter smiled as he started firing.
"Parker, get down!" Sydney barked as he dove underneath the other chopper. It was too late to seek cover inside.
Parker screamed in fury as the chopper circled attempting to get a better shot at the people on the ground, "We had a deal. A fucking deal!"
"Parker!" Sydney yelled again.
Parker reached into his coat pulling out his .9 millimeter Smith and Wessen. He clicked off the safety firing into the chopper as it came around again, "You son of a bitch. You God damned, back stabbing, fuck! I’m going to kill you."
"Parker! Get down now!" Sydney repeated in frustration. He watched in horror as a round of bullets tore through the angry man, "Parker, get back!"
Parker turned. He was hit. He took a few unsteady steps toward Sydney before collapsing, "Take care of my Angel, Syd. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her.."
Sydney cursed. The sharp shooter continued firing as the chopper changed direction attempting to come around the other side of the Tower. Sydney gazed in horror as the chopper reappeared again. He found himself staring face to face with pure evil.
"Motumbo!" he yelled, "Motumbo, you bastard!"
"Sydney, get down!"
"Jarod, get out of here! He’ll kill you."
The chopper began to circle around again. The sharp shooter attempted to get off another round, but a strong gust of wind came up knocking the chopper off balance. Jarod came forward firing into the chopper as it came closer. The sharp shooter took a direct hit to the head, and fell in a heap to the ground below. The black man sitting next to the pilot motioned for him to pull up. The chopper began to rise, but a howling gust of wind caught the chopper sending it into a tail spin. Jarod watched the horror on the pilot’s face as he tried to regain control of his craft. Finally, the pilot was successful in landing the chopper on the hellipad.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing," Motumbo yelled angrily.
"In these crosswinds. You’re lucky we’re not dead," the pilot spat angrily.
Motumbo reached into his coat pulling out his glock, "Get this chopper in the air, or I’ll kill you."
Jarod smiled as he came up behind the black man placing the muzzle of his gun against the back of his head, "I think you should listen to your friend, Motumbo. He’s right. The crosswinds will get you every time."
"I should have killed you when I had the chance, Jarod."
"Now, now," Jarod mocked, "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"
Motumbo’s eyes burned into the pretender’s face, "You think you’ve won? You think by capturing me, you’ve won?"
Jarod laughed as he pushed Motumbo through the sliding glass doors, "You are part of the Triumverant, so I guess it’s a step in the right direction."
"You’re crazy," Motumbo spat angrily.
Jarod couldn’t keep from smiling as he motioned to two men standing in front of the elevator. The men were ex-centre employees who came to Blue Cove with one thing on their minds. They wanted a chance to re-build their shattered lives. Jarod found it fitting that these ex-sweepers would be escorting Motumbo to his new home.
Willie looked up as Jarod and Motumbo approached, "Hey, man. What’s up?"
Jarod smiled, "Hey is for horses. I was wondering if you and Sam could escort Mr. Motumbo to his new home. Make sure he settles in ok."
Motumbo glared at the two ex-sweepers, "You work for the Centre. How could you do this? Where are your loyalties? You used to work for Raines. He would be turning in his grave if he ever found out."
Willie nodded, "Used to is the operative phrase, pal."
Motumbo turned to Jarod. His face contorted in rage, "You’ll pay for this, Jarod. They’ll come for me, and then you’ll pay."
Jarod laughed mirthlessly, "That’s exactly what I had in mind, Motumbo. You see, Mr. Motumbo, they have something that belongs to me. Something I would kill for, if you know what I mean."
"You’re crazy. You’re even crazier than that bitch you call your wife."
At the mention of Moira, Sam reeled back punching Motumbo in the face, "Don’t you talk about Mrs. B like that. She’s a nice woman."
Jarod stepped in between them holding Sam back, "Sam, it’s ok. He’s just trying to act tough. He doesn’t mean it."
"Take it back, motherfucker," Willie cursed, "You take it back, or I’ll make you."
Jarod looked at Willie, and then at Sam, "Mr. Motumbo, I think you better apologize to these gentlemen."
"Go to Hell," Motumbo gasped.
"You go to Hell," Willie growled menacingly. His hands were balled up into fists ready to swing, but Jarod stood fast holding him back.
"Gentlemen, that’s enough. Kindly escort this man down to SL-25. Make sure he’s settled in, and then I need to see you in my office. We have work to do," Jarod said staring at Motumbo.
Motumbo looked at Jarod in horror, "No. No, please. Please don’t put me down there."
"Why not? I thought you’d want to stay there. Afterall, it’s where I stayed, isn’t it, Motumbo. It’s where they tortured me," Jarod said sadistically.
He could still hear Motumbo howling even after the elevator doors shut. For a brief moment, Jarod felt vindicated. He had something they wanted, and if they didn’t watch it, he would have a lot more.
To Be Continued…
