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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
The Centre, 1970
Catherine Parker fled down the hall anxiously. Tears fell from her cheaks to the frigid concrete floors like rain droplets from a summer leaf. The young woman stumbled along the halls, choking back all of the sobs that threatened to erupt. She clutched the silver handle like a lifeline and placing a palm to her clammy forehead she took a deep breath and flung the door open.
"Oh, Sydney, my dear Sydney!" she weeped desperately.
"Catherine? What's wrong?" young Sydney asked, hastily rushing to comfort her, the paperwork on his desk left forgotten, "are you all right?"
"No. I'll never be all right again! The Centre has gone too far this time."
"Sit down, sit down." Sydney lead the distressed woman to the bland sofa in his drabby office. Hands clamped together, the two faced eachother, but Catherine couldn't bear to look him in the eye in fear of breaking down once again.
"Talk to me, Catherine. Everything will work out. Just talk to me of what has you in this maniac state."
Catherine's head rose and she tried to force a smile and a small chuckle came out, but her eyes only wept more, "I... I can't tell you. I don't want to endanger you anymore than I already have."
"You have to talk to someone. I promise, I'll keep this completely confidential," he reassured her while gently caressing the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry, Sydney. I shouldn't have even come here. I do know of someone I can talk to about this. Thank-you for your kind words. I beg of you to simply pray for me, my friend."
Sydney, melting easily under her noble request of him, nodded when he saw the regret and horror clouding her gentle blue eyes, "God speed, Catherine."
Sniffling, she stood gracefully and walked out the door, blowing a kiss back at her saving grace.
*****
Hair in a tight bun, Catherine emerged from the taxi cab with her long navy-blue skirt waving with the country breeze. Her blouse was a vanilla creme and everything around her looked more beautiful because of her. She smiled warmly and payed the old man sitting in the driver's seat before checking the address once again on the mailbox. She could see overgrown weeds nestled all around it and the numbers on the mailbox were slightly rusted with age. Every tree was in the distance swaying and dancing rejoicefully with the soft gentle breeze. Wheat and corn fields of infinity stretched on like stars in the summer night, illuminating the sun's honey-golden rays.
Catherine watched the cab pull away and once the dust had settled and the vehicle could no longer be heard, she walked up the steps of the old country porch, complete with two hand-crafted pine rocking chairs. The quaint little house had all the trimmings of home she wished for in her own; a clothesline, floral curtains peaking through the wood trimmed windows, an old toy airplane lying in the neglected yard, and an out of style station wagon occupying the gravel driveway.
She reached the front door and hesitantly knocked. When there was no answer, she summoned all of her courage and knocked with more strength. This time she heard noises from inside. Muffled voices could be heard inside the home, but Catherine could make out no words. The door creaked open and a beautiful woman with long, curly, red hair presented herself to her unexpected visitor. A tired-looking man stood behind her, presumably her husband.
"May we help you ma'am?" the woman asked.
"No," Catherine replied gently, shaking her head, "but I think I can help you."
*****
Sydney sat in his office alone, contemplating Catherine's abrupt wave of confusion. She was so lost and in distress, it pained Sydney to have to see her in such a condition and have no way of helping her. If only she would reveal her problem, he was sure there must be something he could do for the poor woman. She was so strong and so brave, all the things he was not. Yet, things had always been hard for Catherine. He had always been afraid that one day, The Centre would just pull the last straw and she would collapse under its pressure. Every day she had been married to the monster, Mr Parker, Catherine had been forced to bear a burden she had never deserved. And now, being the kind caring woman she was, Catherine was attempting to use the new knowledge of what The Centre did to help those in need. Never had he before seen her so distanced. Her immediate reaction had been to come to him with problems, but this time had to have been different. Did she not trust him? Or was it something that he had no ability to aid her in. If Catherine really thought that he was helping her overcome her problems, she was wrong. Vice versa to be technical.
By talking to her and trying to overcome her demons, he was kindeling the urge inside him to do something good of his own. She still had obstacles to overcome. He on the other hand was at a perfect position to do something to help all of the needy children The Centre posessed. Jarod namely. If only he held the courage that she continued to maintain. Catherine was so brave and so willing to sacrifice anything for the children. Just like Jacob. Jacob had always been the one to make the right moves. Sydney, himself, on the other hand was always a careful strategist. Even if that meant he was too late, he was a planner. One day, he told himself, I will be couragous like Catherine and Jacob. One day, the children will be safe.
He just wasn't ready, yet.
*****
"Who are you?" the man replied to Catherine's vague introduction.
Taking a deep soothing breath, never losing eye contact, Catherine began, "My name is Catherine Parker. I- I have information, things- things you need to know."
"What are you talking about?" the woman cut in, glancing at her husband anxiously, "what do we need to know?"
"Its about your son. Jarod." This caused the reaction she had feared from the beginning. How was she to try and convince these people that she wanted no harm to come to their son?
They started to speak, but Catherine firmly cut them off, "I have Jarod's best interests at heart, and I'd like to help your family. Please. Allow me to come in and explain."
The woman stared into Catherine's blue eyes. It was clear that this woman spoke only the truth. Something inside her heart told her that she needed to trust this woman. Though her brain kept shrieking that she could be one of "them," a ploy to trip her up, but she cut those messages off and gestured for the woman to come in.
Smiling, Catherine accepted and stepped through the front door, "Thank-you."
"I'm Major Charles. Call me Charles," the man spoke first, though hesitantly, "and this is my wife, Margaret."
Catherine shook their hands in turn, "How do you do?"
Margaret answered, "Not so well as you may already know. Please, make yourself at home. Would you like any coffee?
Hot tea?"
"Tea sounds wonderful. Thank-you," Catherine accepted while sitting politely in the chair across from the couch Charles occupied. The major looked her over with a keen eye and as if proclaiming her safe, visibly relaxed.
"You have a gorgous home. The scenery is breath-taking." Small talk seemed slightly inappropriate for the grave matter at hand, but in an attempt to slice through some of the thick tension that was knotting in the air, Catherine felt she had no better option.
"Yes, lots of open space to fly," Charles replied, smiling. It wasn't completely genuine, but a polite smile just the same. Current matters were far too depressing for a true one.
"Sugar?" Margaret called from the kitchen where they could hear clattering of pots and pans.
"Please," Catherine replied, then returned her attention to Major Charles, "so you're a pilot?"
"Yes I am. I've decided to retire from it as a career for the time being so that my attention is focused directly on my son, but every now and then when I need to relax I'll fly for some peace and leisure. Its very soothing to just get away."
"It sounds magnificent." Her voice lacked the enthusiasm she had intended. Reminder of why she had come here had been brought up and Catherine quickly quieted.
After a moment of akward silence, Margaret reappeared and the trio silently sat in the living room sipping their tea from clay mugs. Catherine admired the unique artwork above the mantle and shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she felt the gaze of her hosts' eyes.
Clearing her throat, Catherine began what she knew would be a lengthy story, "You have a splendid son." This caught their complete attention as both gaped at her wide-eyed, spellbound.
"You've seen him? When? How is he? Where is he now? Wh-" Margaret let the questions explode like scorching lava, but Catherine held her hand up.
"So many questions and so little time!" she gave them a sad smile, "I actually met Jarod a few years ago, but it wasn't until now that I was able to access his personal records and find the two of you. You raised a marvelous child. I spoke with him most recently, um... two days ago."
"Do you see him often?" Charles inquired. His eyes looked guilty for his lack of time spent with his own son, though he obviously had no control over the horrendous circumstances.
"As a matter of fact I do. You see, my husband runs the corporation that stole Jarod from you. I know now that he was indeed kidnapped. I'm sorry it took me so long. Anyway, he has me visit with the children often to-"
"Wait a minute," Charles broke in, "Jarod isn't the only child there?"
"Unfortunately not. There are several others, and I'm trying to locate all of their families in hopes that one day I'll have rescued them all."
"I don't know much about this place except that they stole my baby. Obviously, these have to be some dangerous people, Catherine. Why are you helping these people like us that you don't even know?" Margaret asked cautiously, but before Catherine could reply she began again, "I mean- not that I'm ungrateful."
Catherine smiled sweetly, "I understand. I'm not even sure myself why I'm doing this. Something inside me just told me I had to. I had to help these poor children. What if it had been my child?" She paused, thinking of the beautiful little girl waiting for her at home.
"Well, as you were saying. Please continue," the Major reminded her, nodding.
"Yes. My job is to talk with the children and keep them happy enough to do what they're intended to do-"
"Which is..? What are they forcing my son to do?" Charles asked sharply, anger reflecting on his furious eyes for his lost son.
Understanding his distress, Catherine spoke calmly and slowly, "Each of the children has a special so-called 'gift' that they have been trained to apply to certain scenarios. Jarod, for example, is The Centre's-"
"The Centre?" Margaret mumbled quietly.
"The Centre is the organization that has been exploiting your son's talents all of these years."
Charles caressed Margaret's hand gently in hopes to soothe her wounds. With every word, Catherine was making Jarod's life seem more and more horrible and he knew that that was his wife's worst fear. Margaret nodded, giving Catherine consent to continue.
"Jarod is The Centre's prized 'subject.' They have been exploiting his skills as a Pretender for years now. Jarod is a Pretender- a child prodigy who can become anyone he wants to be. He can literally slip into another person's identity and tell The Centre what they are thinking and how they are responding to certain scenarios."
"I thought they had technology to do that sort of thing," Charles protested. Tears were beginning to slip down Margaret's face.
"Computers can figure out what the average person will do, but Jarod is so intelligent, he can dig deeper. He can apply emotional variables as well, making the results 75% more reliable," noticing Margaret's distress, Catherine reached for her free hand, "Oh! I am so sorry, Dear! I am laying too much out at once. I can come back later if that's better."
"No!" Margaret begged, attempting to get her breath back, "I have to know. I can handle it. Jarod's handled it for years. Its about time I did, too." Trembling, Margaret waved her hand in a motion directing Catherine to go on once again.
"All right. One thing needs to be set straight first. Jarod hasn't been told the truth. He believes that the results of his simulations are being used to help people. And in some cases they are, but in others, the results are manipulated to do just the opposite. The results are simply sold to the highest bidder who may do with them as they please. Your son has a strict set of morals and only wants to help people. He has such a great heart. You should be very proud," Catherine paused and when she wasn't interrupted, continued, "the reason I see Jarod more than the other children, almost on a daily basis as a matter of fact, is because I have a young daughter myself. She's about the same age as Jarod and the two get along remarkably well. They're best friends, and Jarod has left such a good impression on my little girl's life. I feel like I should be thanking you. She just gets so lonely sometimes, and Jarod is all she has. Every day we come home from work, all I hear about is Jarod this and Jarod that!"
Catherine laughed a little, "Those two are always being caught doing something they know they shouldn't be. Sneaky little things, and clever, too. I know we don't even catch them most of the time, but oh that mischiefous look in their eyes is priceless! Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm rambling. I'm sure you don't need to hear about my daughter!"
"Oh no!" Margaret spoke up who had been hanging on every word and even allowing herself to smile gently, "I'm glad to hear what kind of a boy Jarod's grown to be. Don't let me stop you at all!"
Major Charles leaned in, "Does anyone look after Jarod? Do you?"
"No. That's not my job. I get ridiculed enough for just visiting with him so often, but he's such a pleasure. My co-worker, Sydney, takes care of Jarod. He's a good man, but some of his priorities need adjustment. Don't worry though. Sydney wouldn't let any harm come to Jarod. He cares about him, and I've seen some of the sacrifices he has made to keep any potential threats away from Jarod."
"That's a relief. So, Catherine, why did you come to see us? I'm sure it couldn't have been simply spur of the moment," Margaret paused, "what caused you to come to us now?"
"That's what I've been fearing the most. I want to free Jarod of The Centre, but I've always wanted that. What brought me here specifically was," Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, choking back sobs, "Th-the Centre went t-too far. They've plotted some outrageous things that I've been aware of, but this tops them a-all."
A moment's silence passed by. Margaret tightened her hold on her hand, "What is it, Catherine? I know we just met, but I feel as though I've known you forever."
"I feel it, too. Its just so hard."
"Please," the couple spoke in unison.
Catherine looked from face to face, "I've found something. On a Scottish Isle, Carthis, there are secret ancient scrolls. A prophecy of what will be of The Centre. I read them, and I couldn't believe the words before me."
Catherine Parker fled down the hall anxiously. Tears fell from her cheaks to the frigid concrete floors like rain droplets from a summer leaf. The young woman stumbled along the halls, choking back all of the sobs that threatened to erupt. She clutched the silver handle like a lifeline and placing a palm to her clammy forehead she took a deep breath and flung the door open.
"Oh, Sydney, my dear Sydney!" she weeped desperately.
"Catherine? What's wrong?" young Sydney asked, hastily rushing to comfort her, the paperwork on his desk left forgotten, "are you all right?"
"No. I'll never be all right again! The Centre has gone too far this time."
"Sit down, sit down." Sydney lead the distressed woman to the bland sofa in his drabby office. Hands clamped together, the two faced eachother, but Catherine couldn't bear to look him in the eye in fear of breaking down once again.
"Talk to me, Catherine. Everything will work out. Just talk to me of what has you in this maniac state."
Catherine's head rose and she tried to force a smile and a small chuckle came out, but her eyes only wept more, "I... I can't tell you. I don't want to endanger you anymore than I already have."
"You have to talk to someone. I promise, I'll keep this completely confidential," he reassured her while gently caressing the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry, Sydney. I shouldn't have even come here. I do know of someone I can talk to about this. Thank-you for your kind words. I beg of you to simply pray for me, my friend."
Sydney, melting easily under her noble request of him, nodded when he saw the regret and horror clouding her gentle blue eyes, "God speed, Catherine."
Sniffling, she stood gracefully and walked out the door, blowing a kiss back at her saving grace.
*****
Hair in a tight bun, Catherine emerged from the taxi cab with her long navy-blue skirt waving with the country breeze. Her blouse was a vanilla creme and everything around her looked more beautiful because of her. She smiled warmly and payed the old man sitting in the driver's seat before checking the address once again on the mailbox. She could see overgrown weeds nestled all around it and the numbers on the mailbox were slightly rusted with age. Every tree was in the distance swaying and dancing rejoicefully with the soft gentle breeze. Wheat and corn fields of infinity stretched on like stars in the summer night, illuminating the sun's honey-golden rays.
Catherine watched the cab pull away and once the dust had settled and the vehicle could no longer be heard, she walked up the steps of the old country porch, complete with two hand-crafted pine rocking chairs. The quaint little house had all the trimmings of home she wished for in her own; a clothesline, floral curtains peaking through the wood trimmed windows, an old toy airplane lying in the neglected yard, and an out of style station wagon occupying the gravel driveway.
She reached the front door and hesitantly knocked. When there was no answer, she summoned all of her courage and knocked with more strength. This time she heard noises from inside. Muffled voices could be heard inside the home, but Catherine could make out no words. The door creaked open and a beautiful woman with long, curly, red hair presented herself to her unexpected visitor. A tired-looking man stood behind her, presumably her husband.
"May we help you ma'am?" the woman asked.
"No," Catherine replied gently, shaking her head, "but I think I can help you."
*****
Sydney sat in his office alone, contemplating Catherine's abrupt wave of confusion. She was so lost and in distress, it pained Sydney to have to see her in such a condition and have no way of helping her. If only she would reveal her problem, he was sure there must be something he could do for the poor woman. She was so strong and so brave, all the things he was not. Yet, things had always been hard for Catherine. He had always been afraid that one day, The Centre would just pull the last straw and she would collapse under its pressure. Every day she had been married to the monster, Mr Parker, Catherine had been forced to bear a burden she had never deserved. And now, being the kind caring woman she was, Catherine was attempting to use the new knowledge of what The Centre did to help those in need. Never had he before seen her so distanced. Her immediate reaction had been to come to him with problems, but this time had to have been different. Did she not trust him? Or was it something that he had no ability to aid her in. If Catherine really thought that he was helping her overcome her problems, she was wrong. Vice versa to be technical.
By talking to her and trying to overcome her demons, he was kindeling the urge inside him to do something good of his own. She still had obstacles to overcome. He on the other hand was at a perfect position to do something to help all of the needy children The Centre posessed. Jarod namely. If only he held the courage that she continued to maintain. Catherine was so brave and so willing to sacrifice anything for the children. Just like Jacob. Jacob had always been the one to make the right moves. Sydney, himself, on the other hand was always a careful strategist. Even if that meant he was too late, he was a planner. One day, he told himself, I will be couragous like Catherine and Jacob. One day, the children will be safe.
He just wasn't ready, yet.
*****
"Who are you?" the man replied to Catherine's vague introduction.
Taking a deep soothing breath, never losing eye contact, Catherine began, "My name is Catherine Parker. I- I have information, things- things you need to know."
"What are you talking about?" the woman cut in, glancing at her husband anxiously, "what do we need to know?"
"Its about your son. Jarod." This caused the reaction she had feared from the beginning. How was she to try and convince these people that she wanted no harm to come to their son?
They started to speak, but Catherine firmly cut them off, "I have Jarod's best interests at heart, and I'd like to help your family. Please. Allow me to come in and explain."
The woman stared into Catherine's blue eyes. It was clear that this woman spoke only the truth. Something inside her heart told her that she needed to trust this woman. Though her brain kept shrieking that she could be one of "them," a ploy to trip her up, but she cut those messages off and gestured for the woman to come in.
Smiling, Catherine accepted and stepped through the front door, "Thank-you."
"I'm Major Charles. Call me Charles," the man spoke first, though hesitantly, "and this is my wife, Margaret."
Catherine shook their hands in turn, "How do you do?"
Margaret answered, "Not so well as you may already know. Please, make yourself at home. Would you like any coffee?
Hot tea?"
"Tea sounds wonderful. Thank-you," Catherine accepted while sitting politely in the chair across from the couch Charles occupied. The major looked her over with a keen eye and as if proclaiming her safe, visibly relaxed.
"You have a gorgous home. The scenery is breath-taking." Small talk seemed slightly inappropriate for the grave matter at hand, but in an attempt to slice through some of the thick tension that was knotting in the air, Catherine felt she had no better option.
"Yes, lots of open space to fly," Charles replied, smiling. It wasn't completely genuine, but a polite smile just the same. Current matters were far too depressing for a true one.
"Sugar?" Margaret called from the kitchen where they could hear clattering of pots and pans.
"Please," Catherine replied, then returned her attention to Major Charles, "so you're a pilot?"
"Yes I am. I've decided to retire from it as a career for the time being so that my attention is focused directly on my son, but every now and then when I need to relax I'll fly for some peace and leisure. Its very soothing to just get away."
"It sounds magnificent." Her voice lacked the enthusiasm she had intended. Reminder of why she had come here had been brought up and Catherine quickly quieted.
After a moment of akward silence, Margaret reappeared and the trio silently sat in the living room sipping their tea from clay mugs. Catherine admired the unique artwork above the mantle and shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she felt the gaze of her hosts' eyes.
Clearing her throat, Catherine began what she knew would be a lengthy story, "You have a splendid son." This caught their complete attention as both gaped at her wide-eyed, spellbound.
"You've seen him? When? How is he? Where is he now? Wh-" Margaret let the questions explode like scorching lava, but Catherine held her hand up.
"So many questions and so little time!" she gave them a sad smile, "I actually met Jarod a few years ago, but it wasn't until now that I was able to access his personal records and find the two of you. You raised a marvelous child. I spoke with him most recently, um... two days ago."
"Do you see him often?" Charles inquired. His eyes looked guilty for his lack of time spent with his own son, though he obviously had no control over the horrendous circumstances.
"As a matter of fact I do. You see, my husband runs the corporation that stole Jarod from you. I know now that he was indeed kidnapped. I'm sorry it took me so long. Anyway, he has me visit with the children often to-"
"Wait a minute," Charles broke in, "Jarod isn't the only child there?"
"Unfortunately not. There are several others, and I'm trying to locate all of their families in hopes that one day I'll have rescued them all."
"I don't know much about this place except that they stole my baby. Obviously, these have to be some dangerous people, Catherine. Why are you helping these people like us that you don't even know?" Margaret asked cautiously, but before Catherine could reply she began again, "I mean- not that I'm ungrateful."
Catherine smiled sweetly, "I understand. I'm not even sure myself why I'm doing this. Something inside me just told me I had to. I had to help these poor children. What if it had been my child?" She paused, thinking of the beautiful little girl waiting for her at home.
"Well, as you were saying. Please continue," the Major reminded her, nodding.
"Yes. My job is to talk with the children and keep them happy enough to do what they're intended to do-"
"Which is..? What are they forcing my son to do?" Charles asked sharply, anger reflecting on his furious eyes for his lost son.
Understanding his distress, Catherine spoke calmly and slowly, "Each of the children has a special so-called 'gift' that they have been trained to apply to certain scenarios. Jarod, for example, is The Centre's-"
"The Centre?" Margaret mumbled quietly.
"The Centre is the organization that has been exploiting your son's talents all of these years."
Charles caressed Margaret's hand gently in hopes to soothe her wounds. With every word, Catherine was making Jarod's life seem more and more horrible and he knew that that was his wife's worst fear. Margaret nodded, giving Catherine consent to continue.
"Jarod is The Centre's prized 'subject.' They have been exploiting his skills as a Pretender for years now. Jarod is a Pretender- a child prodigy who can become anyone he wants to be. He can literally slip into another person's identity and tell The Centre what they are thinking and how they are responding to certain scenarios."
"I thought they had technology to do that sort of thing," Charles protested. Tears were beginning to slip down Margaret's face.
"Computers can figure out what the average person will do, but Jarod is so intelligent, he can dig deeper. He can apply emotional variables as well, making the results 75% more reliable," noticing Margaret's distress, Catherine reached for her free hand, "Oh! I am so sorry, Dear! I am laying too much out at once. I can come back later if that's better."
"No!" Margaret begged, attempting to get her breath back, "I have to know. I can handle it. Jarod's handled it for years. Its about time I did, too." Trembling, Margaret waved her hand in a motion directing Catherine to go on once again.
"All right. One thing needs to be set straight first. Jarod hasn't been told the truth. He believes that the results of his simulations are being used to help people. And in some cases they are, but in others, the results are manipulated to do just the opposite. The results are simply sold to the highest bidder who may do with them as they please. Your son has a strict set of morals and only wants to help people. He has such a great heart. You should be very proud," Catherine paused and when she wasn't interrupted, continued, "the reason I see Jarod more than the other children, almost on a daily basis as a matter of fact, is because I have a young daughter myself. She's about the same age as Jarod and the two get along remarkably well. They're best friends, and Jarod has left such a good impression on my little girl's life. I feel like I should be thanking you. She just gets so lonely sometimes, and Jarod is all she has. Every day we come home from work, all I hear about is Jarod this and Jarod that!"
Catherine laughed a little, "Those two are always being caught doing something they know they shouldn't be. Sneaky little things, and clever, too. I know we don't even catch them most of the time, but oh that mischiefous look in their eyes is priceless! Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm rambling. I'm sure you don't need to hear about my daughter!"
"Oh no!" Margaret spoke up who had been hanging on every word and even allowing herself to smile gently, "I'm glad to hear what kind of a boy Jarod's grown to be. Don't let me stop you at all!"
Major Charles leaned in, "Does anyone look after Jarod? Do you?"
"No. That's not my job. I get ridiculed enough for just visiting with him so often, but he's such a pleasure. My co-worker, Sydney, takes care of Jarod. He's a good man, but some of his priorities need adjustment. Don't worry though. Sydney wouldn't let any harm come to Jarod. He cares about him, and I've seen some of the sacrifices he has made to keep any potential threats away from Jarod."
"That's a relief. So, Catherine, why did you come to see us? I'm sure it couldn't have been simply spur of the moment," Margaret paused, "what caused you to come to us now?"
"That's what I've been fearing the most. I want to free Jarod of The Centre, but I've always wanted that. What brought me here specifically was," Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, choking back sobs, "Th-the Centre went t-too far. They've plotted some outrageous things that I've been aware of, but this tops them a-all."
A moment's silence passed by. Margaret tightened her hold on her hand, "What is it, Catherine? I know we just met, but I feel as though I've known you forever."
"I feel it, too. Its just so hard."
"Please," the couple spoke in unison.
Catherine looked from face to face, "I've found something. On a Scottish Isle, Carthis, there are secret ancient scrolls. A prophecy of what will be of The Centre. I read them, and I couldn't believe the words before me."
