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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
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Turning point
The Centre vineyard – 23:45
The plan was now being set into motion. Sydney, the Major and Harry was patiently waiting for the hour to announce the start. The windows were slightly open, the warm night air bringing little relief to the tension in the car. Once again, he went through the plan in his mind, trying to find a flaw, anything that could spell disaster.
The buzz of the phone on his belt made him jump. He was in mind to ignore it, to let it ring until the caller decided to give up, but another thought crept in with it. What if it was the Centre? If Raines or Lyle were trying to contact him, wouldn’t it be better to answer and deflect any suspicions that they might have. Looking at the Major’s worried face, his hand closed on the vibrating phone.
The voice on the other side was excited, whispering loud enough for the other two men to hear. Sydney never even had a chance to answer.
“Sydney, they….uh…Lyle took Jarod….um….he’s not here….Sydney….you have to listen…Sydney?”
“I’m here Broots. Slow down and start from the beginning.”
His unease grew as Broots unfolded the night’s events more fully. The boy was missing, no one had any idea where, Jarod taken from the Centre by Lyle for some unknown reason. Sydney could only guess that Lyle had somehow managed to ensure that the Pretender took him directly to Miss Parker although the reason why Lyle wanted to rescue her eluded him. He remembered all too well the psychopath’s blasé reference to the search for Miss Parker when he had come to his office to inform him of Jarod’s capture. This had to be a power play for Lyle, a very good reason for him to be part of the rescue.
Closing the phone, he faced the anxious father, his heart in his throat when he forced the words he didn’t want to say.
“We have to call it off. I’m sorry but there are complications that we didn’t foresee.”
He could see anger start to mar the face of the man in front of him, well aware of the anticipation that had built up just to change into disappointment. Slowly he began to explain the situation.
It was ten minutes before the Major reluctantly agreed to wait another day. Another ten before Sydney finally started the car, reluctantly driving off. The interior filled with disappointment and tension as each man wrestled with thoughts of what another day might do to the two Pretenders.
**********
Undisclosed vicinity
Jarod followed Willie, the lighter square of darkness in front of them increasing in size. Miss Parker was holding on tight to his right hand, her feet making soft, sloshing sounds next to his shuffling feet. His limp had increased to a very noticeable favouring to one side, trying to keep most pressure off the ever-increasing ache that shot lava-cooled lumps of burning pain from his ankle up towards his trembling thigh. His face had a drawn look, the lines around his lips and eyes filled with the fatigue and pain he was trying to keep at manageable levels. Wearily he allowed his feet to draw him closer and closer to the doorway. The doorway that led to a waiting Lyle and the Centre, and he was under no illusion as to the way Lyle would use J to get him to perform like their trained monkey once again. He was worried for Miss Parker, she needed help and not the kind that he was sure Raines would give. In her current state, she was very vulnerable. The observations he made while being in the room was enough for him to know that Alex knew what he was doing and he had nearly succeeded in breaking her completely. Her stubbornness had held the insanity at bay and the fact that he arrived when he did, helped her to pull out of the defensive comatose.
He waited while Willie stepped through the doorway. Bending, he led Miss Parker through the doorway into the storm shelter, the dark man’s flashlight helping to light the way. Miss Parker had just stepped into the room when Jarod watched in disbelief as Willie crumbled before his eyes, folding downwards into a boneless heap. His flashlight fell with him, the light dancing wildly before finally half-mooning to a standstill, slashing a path towards their feet. Jarod pulled Parker behind him, his stance protective. He could just make out the darker shape of another man, but what made him stand still was the glint of blue metal that was held in an outstretched hand. He felt Parker move slightly behind him, her hands grabbing hold of his shirt. He could feel her trembling, her breaths coming in fast gasps. Turning he whispered to her, his voice calm, “It’s ok.”
He turned his attention back on the darkened shape in front of him. He started to lift the flashlight in his right hand; the faint shake of the gun stopped him. Dropping his hand to his side again, swallowing the fear that started from a pit somewhere in the centre of his stomach. He opened his mouth to question, to say anything that could get them out of this situation, when another shake of the gun closed the query before it slipped out.
They stood there in silence, the wait so long that he could see the dust motes starting their dance on the pathways of light. The creak from a falling branch outside startled him, breaking the stillness with a loud crack. That seemed to be what the body in front of him had waited for. The gun dropped slightly to his hand holding the flashlight. It took a more aggressive gesture before Jarod understood and switched off the light. He slowly moved towards the steps, the gun waving silent instructions. Following, Jarod kept Miss Parker behind him. He limped painfully up the stairs, the stars greeting them brightly, unaware of the drama unfolding beneath them.
Jarod could barely see the car from where they stood besides the broken-down shelter. He thought of making a noise, any noise thinking that an enemy known was better than the silent unknown in front of them. Miss Parker kept hold of shirt, he could feel her trembling and it worried him, wondering what had been done to change her personality so profound.
The gun waved again. Turning, he could faintly make out a trail between the trees. During the time they had been inside, a wind had sprung up, the branches creaking in an ancient song while the unseen air moved between the towering trees. He pulled Miss Parker underneath his arm, glancing back occasionally as they made their way on the faint white gravel. It felt surreal, unimaginable. He simmed scenarios, possible escapes but he had no idea what Miss Parker would do. He was sure that she would follow his lead, but he doubted that she had the physical strength for a run through the woods; but to be honest neither did he. So he kept limping, Miss Parker at his side with the darkened menace of the gun-wielding hand following sinisterly behind them.
**********
Safe house – 24:00
Margaret crouched in the heavy underbrush just south of the house. The pistol she had taken from the man felt heavy in her right hand. Her left came up slowly, indicating to her daughter to move five steps left of her current position. She waited, ignoring the sweat that was starting to drip down her face. The faintest whisper of a twig being tread on alerted her to the man that was sneaking up on Emily. She could just make out his form as he froze, waiting to see whether he had been discovered. She still did not move, her own breath held in hope. Apparently satisfied, he continued his movement forward. She barely registered the white of his eyes that was focused on her daughter's back. He stepped past her position, oblivious of her presence. His hand rose, and with it hers. Both silent and intent on their task. She used all the strength when she brought the butt of the gun down on the hapless man's head. She watched the body crumble, her hand aching from the shock that had sprung through the gun’s frame. She gave a small smile to Emily, to show her that she was fine. One thought settled in her mind.
'Two down, one to go.”
**********
Undisclosed vicinity – 24:10
Lyle once again looked at his watch. Impatiently he wondered whether Jarod had decided to make his escape. He could think of no other reason why he had not seen Willie with Jarod and Parker in tow. Swearing, he opened his phone. The number he dialled went unanswered. Thinking of ways to make Jarod pay for the delay, he motioned to the driver to follow him.
The light was diffused, the glow almost imperceptible but enough to guide him to the storm shelter. His gun was out, leading the way inside. He finally made out the darker, unconscious shape of Willie, an expletive leaving his lips. Stepping forward, he knelt next to the dark man. He cruelly slapped at Willie’s face until the other moaned, his head turning sideways. Standing, he watched the dark man lift a hand to his head, coming back dripping wet. His voice was deceptively calm, the cold dripping ice on each syllable.
“Where are they?”
Confused brown eyes looked at him, Willie still waking to the realisation of what had happened to him. Lyle’s anger increased, just barely contained in its cage. Willie must have seen the look, grunting a hoarse answer in staccato.
“There was someone else. Miss Parker and Jarod had just stepped through when he must have hit me from behind.”
Lyle let go of another more colourful expletive. Following the stairs back out, he made a full turn, the creaking trees staring back at him. Grabbing the flashlight from the driver, he took a good look at his feet. The footprints were there, the imprint from Jarod’s shoe distinctive. The hours he had spent outdoors now came handy; he could clearly see the third set of footprints that meant that there was only one attacker.
Good.
The driver followed as he started tracking his prey, the adrenaline surging comfortably through his veins. No one had the right to take his property and get away with it.
**********
Safe house – 24:15
'She's good. No wonder the Centre had difficulty in tracking her.'
He had found Karl, unconscious from a heavy blow to the head. He doubted whether Karl would ever wake up. Leaving the man behind him, he followed the tracks as best he could. He nearly stumbled over the second body. Dropping to his haunches, he felt for a pulse. A faint beat touched his fingertips. Gordon was out for the count and from what he could determine, will be for the rest of the night. A small smile settled on his face.
Finally, in all the years he had spent in his profession he once again had a worthy advisory. They were so few and they were always far in-between. Jarod was the only one who had come close to capture him. If not for the fact that he had that file on Emily to bargain with, he would certainly have been caught. Jarod was so predictable in his efforts to protect and find his family that he would do almost anything to ascertain those goals. That is a weakness that Lyle would definitely exploit, the boy alone was enough to enforce cooperation. With the added bonus of knowing his father was in the clutches of the Centre, it would guarantee Jarod’s willingness to do anything in order to protect him from further harm. He knew, even with Lyle's threats if he failed to find Major Charles, that apprehending this family would become his prime achievement. When he had handed them over to the Centre, he would retire. He had thought about this, and he did not think anyone else would ever be able to present him with the same challenge than this family did.
Breathing slowly, he stepped over the body. He knew that the woman would be somewhere close by; they wouldn't go too far from the house. What they did not know was that he had one more surprise addition to his team. He was waiting by the road, making sure that no one escaped down that way to intercept the Major and the paramedic when they returned. He wanted to have the woman under his control in the house by the time they came back. He had two hours more, he reckoned, before their return.
**********
Undisclosed vicinity
The house slowly came into view. The clearing was small, barely big enough to be called that. The house was barely that, a little more than four log walls with a closed door and window facing them. The aggressive shake of the muzzle forced them on, continuing the silent walk towards the house.
The door they entered creaked ominously, increasing the haunted feel of the clearing and its sole occupant. They heard the door answer in closure, the final click as the lock was engaged increasing the feeling of dread that had settled in Jarod’s heart. He pulled Parker closer, no idea how he could protect her. He could feel the increased beat of her panic, her face pressed into his side. The cold wetness of her silent tears increased his grip around her, pulling her even closer into the enclosure of his arms. The moans from the wind creeping through holes in the walls created a mockery of ghostly life in the complete darkness that surrounded them. He couldn’t see where the gunman was, and that increased his fear for Parker’s safety even more.
The scrap of sulphur against phosphor startled both of them. The flame showed bright, the light expanding to the hand that held it. Slowly, the flame was brought higher, throwing chilling shadows across the face of the man who held the burning fire.
“Alex.”
His whispered growl chained the wind, creating a void that incorporated the grinning sociopath and them, cutting of all reality of the world around them. Boxing them in, he watched as the flame burned ever lower. Just before the end would come with burned fingers, the flame was sheaved into a storm lantern, given life again.
“You know, Jarod, life is precious or so society proclaims. Personally, I find the manipulation of life so much more rewarding.”
Jarod suppressed his anger, his arm protective, keeping the brunette close to him while he tried to think why Alex had him brought here. He waited, aware of the silent gunman that hovered behind them.
“Take Miss Parker for example.”
Jarod took a step forward, his angry denial just starting when the click of the safety being released stopped him. His defiant gaze settled on Alex, glaring daggers on the unconcerned man.
“The well-known Ice Queen that hid beneath daddy’s lies in the hope that he would show her some affection, maybe even the illusion of fatherly love.”
Jarod could feel the tensing of Parker’s muscles beneath his arms. Her tears had dried, she was listening and he wondered how he could spare her from what Alex was saying. He wanted to shatter the words, to prevent them from surrounding Miss Parker but he could no more stop them then he could stop the sun from shining.
“You should have seen her when she saw daddy’s head. I must say that it was one of my best artwork yet and she believed it to be real. That grief she showed was definitely not earned but she gave it willingly.”
Miss Parker gasped, her mind conjuring the face again in the macabre setting of the cupboard. Her defences still weak, barely recovered from the last emotional torture, she felt them crumble again. The only strength that kept her from collapsing completely was the sound of Jarod’s heart close to her ear, his arm tight around her. Jarod’s deep voice filled his chest, she could hear them boom from inside, momentarily drowning the sound of his heart.
“What do you want?”
Smiling, the sociopath leaned into the chair he sat in.
“I told you before, Jarod. You never listen, ignoring all the obvious facts that screamed at you from right under your own nose. I will say this again, for your sake. Why assume that I want anything…from you.”
Jarod closed his eyes for a brief moment. He could feel the weight of the forgotten flashlight in his right hand, an escape plan starting to take form.
“If not me, from whom then?”
“You’re the genius, figure it out. Why should I make it any easier for you?” Alex chuckled, genuinely amused by Jarod’s question.
“Somebody’s giving orders and its not you. Who is it?”
“Why, I’m hurt Jarod." Pouting, Alex's cold eyes settled on his. A sinister smile played on his features, his one hand pushing the box of matches next to the lamp.
"After all, I’m a pretender too, or have you forgotten. You keep coming back to the question that I’m not alone…that there is some big powerful overseer behind me handing out orders. Sorry to disappoint you but all this is my doing." He paused, his hand tapping the box, making a small hallow sound. Turning his head, his gaze narrowed on the pretender standing before him. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he gave another low chuckle. His next statement sent slivers of cold ice running down Jarod's back.
"But, as in all true characterisations, I needed a henchman and that is what Mark back there fulfils. I personally cut out his tongue. A nice touch, don’t you think?”
Jarod saw the slight twitch in the corner of Alex’s mouth. Enough for him to confirm that his suspicions are true. He remembered the last time they had met, the final words before Alex had slipped and fell.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you. This takes more skill and subtlety that you could ever hope to achieve.”
Jarod shifted slightly, his stance readying, waiting for the outburst from Alex. And he was not disappointed.
**********
Safe house – 24:30
They had no idea where the third man was. She had caught a quick glimpse of him when they had double backed, enough for her to know that he was dangerous. Following her mom's directions, she crept slowly forward, aware of the night sounds around her. Her right hand held the gun they took of the second man that had stalked them, the grip unfamiliar but not uncomfortably so. The sound of crickets suddenly stilled, froze her in place. It was somewhere to the right of where she crouched. She cursed the silence, her gut tightening with each passing second. She nearly let out a sigh of relief when they singsong started again. Her gaze met those of her mother’s, as they slowly started moving forward again. Another command from her mom, and she moved two steps further, widening the gap between them. She tried to swallow; her mouth was dry with tension. Eyes darting, she stopped briefly to allow her tense leg muscles just to relax for a second.
The first indication she had that someone was behind her was when a hand snaked around her head, covering her mouth and nose. She started to retaliate, her left leg kicking backwards, hard. It only met air, the person twisting away from the kick. Her elbow rose and before she could do anything else, was pinned to her side. His arm pulled her tight against his body; she could feel his sinewy muscles ripple against her back. The hand that kept her close pushed the hard muzzle of a gun against the tender flesh on the underside of her chin. A harsh, whispered command followed. She opened her hand, dropping the gun she had held. Her body bucked in response to the air that failed to flow past the grip he had on her face. Darkness started to edge into her consciousness when she felt his hand slowly release her. Gratefully, gulping in air she tried to shift in his hold. His veiled threats stopped her, whispers of promises that would come true if she tried anything. She tried to see where her mom was, her eyes shifting towards her left. Nothing. She started to open her mouth when the gun pushed hard into her flesh, breaking the skin. A grunt left her; she could feel the blood pushing a path down her throat.
“Margaret, it’s over. Your daughter’s life is in your hands. I want you to step forward, hands raised.”
She could hear the gravely voice, her hand steady that held the gun. She knew that to live, she needed to kill the person who held her daughter. The grunt of pain from her daughter clenched her insides into knots. She was so close to having her family back together again and she would fight with everything she had in order for it to happen. She needed time to think, to work her way around behind them. She started towards her right, aware of where her daughter’s breathing increased in pain.
“You have five seconds, then say goodbye to another child.”
“No, don’t hurt her.”
She tried to stall, the answer allowing her to move another few feet around them. The sound of a gun going off, striking flesh stopped her in her tracks. No, please. Oh God, let her be all right. She heard her daughter’s cry of pain, nearly breaking her heart in half.
“The next one will kill, Margaret. Do you want another child’s death on your conscience? …Margaret?”
“I…I'm coming out.”
She took another few steps. She could hear Emily’s quiet sobs, the impatient breathing of the man that held her. She threw the gun into the general area, then stepping into view with her arms raised. She could just make out the figure of the man, Emily tight against his body. Her left arm hang uselessly next to her side, the blood dripping dark against her white skin.
“You just saved her life. Now I want you to turn around and kneel. Keep your fingers interlocked behind you're head. Try anything, and you'll watch Emily die. Am I clear?"
Emily watched her mother nod stiffly, her gaze trying to explain her actions. She took a pain filled breath, her arm throbbing. She could feel the blood drip from her fingertips, big, dark drops that swelled and fell as gravity pulled them down. The gun was still tucked underneath her chin, a dark bruise already forming around the small circle of broken skin where the barrel had pushed in. She nearly let out a whimper of grief when she watched her mother turn and kneel on the ground. Whispering threats, the man behind her released her, pushing her towards her mother. His hand on her shoulder, he forced her to kneel. She could hear his hand rustle in his clothes before the familiar clink of cuffs filled the air. She started to turn her head, a harsh warning pulling it forward again. She was waiting for the cold steel to snap around her wrist when a gunshot rang out. Her first thought was that he had shot her mother, her eyes frantically pulling left to meet the confused gaze of Margaret. Turning around, she watched the body of the man that had held them, collapse to the ground. His face had a comic look of disbelief on it, as if this reality should not have happened.
"Emily?"
Rising, Margaret stepped to her daughter, only to get there at the same time as Harry. Watching in wonder, she saw her husband step from the brush, the smoking gun still in his hand.
"How…"
"We were close enough to hear the gunshot. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone."
His arm pointed to the body on the ground, his words uttered with contempt.
"This was the man that had delivered J back to the Centre. If it wasn't for him, we would have been safe.” Her husband's arm pulled her close into an embrace. His voice changed, gentleness evident when he whispered, “I'm just grateful that you and Emily have not been seriously hurt."
She turned to where Harry was helping her daughter to stand.
"Where's Jarod and J?" Emily asked, her arm roughly bandaged and resting in a sling, the throbbing a little bit better. She was leaning tiredly into Harry, his one arm gripping her waist, the other her arm. Her brown eyes were fixed on her father’s, waiting for an explanation from him.
"There were some complications. I have no idea if Mr White has contacted the Centre or not. Either way, we have to get away from here. I'll explain what happened on the way," he answered, starting towards where they had parked the car.
**********
Log house
Jarod watched Alex rise from the chair like an avenging angel, the storm lantern throwing shadows across his face that moved and writhed in anger so primeval that the remembrance of it was a vague pinprick on the time-line of life. He had to take an involuntary step back from the surreal image before him, his left leg nearly giving way beneath his body. His hand tightened on the woman that stood next to him to keep him from stumbling. He could feel the tension and play of her muscles beneath his hand when she resolutely stood fast to provide the support he needed.
That step was all it took. Miss Parker seemed to awake from her dream, her tear-streaked face angling towards his determined face, his hand still holding tight to her arm. It was in that moment that time stood still, that all the things he had always wanted to say to her seemed to flow between their hearts. Intertwining, understanding. It was the perfect moment of communication, his intent as visible to her as if he had said it aloud. He felt her muscles ripple, her legs spreading slightly to help steady his stance. Her gaze was clear, ready for the action he was about to take.
His hand drew back, the flashlight twirling from it, his body enfolding hers as he pulled both of them towards the ground. Time returned with the flashlight crashing into the lamp. The glass shattered, splinters showering Alex’s arms, slicing through his clothing. The flame spluttered and leaped with the spilling gasoline, hungrily consuming the dry wood and Alex’s cloth where the fuel splatters had fallen. The matchbox ignited with a hiss and flare, fuelling the rapidly spreading flame. Alex’s screams was enough to draw Mark to his side, clumsily trying to hit at the flames that were quickly spreading. Ignoring the chaos behind them, Jarod rose, pulling Parker with him. The key was still in the door, turning it and exiting seemed to take so long, their lungs heaving in the smoke filled air.
Coughing, shaking, they held on to each other as the fell from the room into the warm outside air. They stumbled and crawled till they had moved away from the ever-increasing heat that growled behind them, the house now totally consumed in its hunger. Jarod stopped, his leg finally succumbing to the physical exertion he had put on. Rolling onto his back, he watched the flames shoot into the sky, the roar and crackle loud in his ears. His eyes streamed with tears, soot covering his clothes and face. His head rolled sideways, meeting those of Parker's. She was sitting by his side, bent over and gulping big mouthfuls of air. His hand reached for her before his own need for air started hacking coughs. The heaving of their bodies as they drew in clean air, expunging the foul air in violent explosions; kept the words inside but it didn’t matter.
Something had happened inside and with it the knowledge that against all odds, the ending of their story had forever been changed.
**********
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Thanks for all the great reviews; it keeps my fingers typing…
Turning point
The Centre vineyard – 23:45
The plan was now being set into motion. Sydney, the Major and Harry was patiently waiting for the hour to announce the start. The windows were slightly open, the warm night air bringing little relief to the tension in the car. Once again, he went through the plan in his mind, trying to find a flaw, anything that could spell disaster.
The buzz of the phone on his belt made him jump. He was in mind to ignore it, to let it ring until the caller decided to give up, but another thought crept in with it. What if it was the Centre? If Raines or Lyle were trying to contact him, wouldn’t it be better to answer and deflect any suspicions that they might have. Looking at the Major’s worried face, his hand closed on the vibrating phone.
The voice on the other side was excited, whispering loud enough for the other two men to hear. Sydney never even had a chance to answer.
“Sydney, they….uh…Lyle took Jarod….um….he’s not here….Sydney….you have to listen…Sydney?”
“I’m here Broots. Slow down and start from the beginning.”
His unease grew as Broots unfolded the night’s events more fully. The boy was missing, no one had any idea where, Jarod taken from the Centre by Lyle for some unknown reason. Sydney could only guess that Lyle had somehow managed to ensure that the Pretender took him directly to Miss Parker although the reason why Lyle wanted to rescue her eluded him. He remembered all too well the psychopath’s blasé reference to the search for Miss Parker when he had come to his office to inform him of Jarod’s capture. This had to be a power play for Lyle, a very good reason for him to be part of the rescue.
Closing the phone, he faced the anxious father, his heart in his throat when he forced the words he didn’t want to say.
“We have to call it off. I’m sorry but there are complications that we didn’t foresee.”
He could see anger start to mar the face of the man in front of him, well aware of the anticipation that had built up just to change into disappointment. Slowly he began to explain the situation.
It was ten minutes before the Major reluctantly agreed to wait another day. Another ten before Sydney finally started the car, reluctantly driving off. The interior filled with disappointment and tension as each man wrestled with thoughts of what another day might do to the two Pretenders.
**********
Undisclosed vicinity
Jarod followed Willie, the lighter square of darkness in front of them increasing in size. Miss Parker was holding on tight to his right hand, her feet making soft, sloshing sounds next to his shuffling feet. His limp had increased to a very noticeable favouring to one side, trying to keep most pressure off the ever-increasing ache that shot lava-cooled lumps of burning pain from his ankle up towards his trembling thigh. His face had a drawn look, the lines around his lips and eyes filled with the fatigue and pain he was trying to keep at manageable levels. Wearily he allowed his feet to draw him closer and closer to the doorway. The doorway that led to a waiting Lyle and the Centre, and he was under no illusion as to the way Lyle would use J to get him to perform like their trained monkey once again. He was worried for Miss Parker, she needed help and not the kind that he was sure Raines would give. In her current state, she was very vulnerable. The observations he made while being in the room was enough for him to know that Alex knew what he was doing and he had nearly succeeded in breaking her completely. Her stubbornness had held the insanity at bay and the fact that he arrived when he did, helped her to pull out of the defensive comatose.
He waited while Willie stepped through the doorway. Bending, he led Miss Parker through the doorway into the storm shelter, the dark man’s flashlight helping to light the way. Miss Parker had just stepped into the room when Jarod watched in disbelief as Willie crumbled before his eyes, folding downwards into a boneless heap. His flashlight fell with him, the light dancing wildly before finally half-mooning to a standstill, slashing a path towards their feet. Jarod pulled Parker behind him, his stance protective. He could just make out the darker shape of another man, but what made him stand still was the glint of blue metal that was held in an outstretched hand. He felt Parker move slightly behind him, her hands grabbing hold of his shirt. He could feel her trembling, her breaths coming in fast gasps. Turning he whispered to her, his voice calm, “It’s ok.”
He turned his attention back on the darkened shape in front of him. He started to lift the flashlight in his right hand; the faint shake of the gun stopped him. Dropping his hand to his side again, swallowing the fear that started from a pit somewhere in the centre of his stomach. He opened his mouth to question, to say anything that could get them out of this situation, when another shake of the gun closed the query before it slipped out.
They stood there in silence, the wait so long that he could see the dust motes starting their dance on the pathways of light. The creak from a falling branch outside startled him, breaking the stillness with a loud crack. That seemed to be what the body in front of him had waited for. The gun dropped slightly to his hand holding the flashlight. It took a more aggressive gesture before Jarod understood and switched off the light. He slowly moved towards the steps, the gun waving silent instructions. Following, Jarod kept Miss Parker behind him. He limped painfully up the stairs, the stars greeting them brightly, unaware of the drama unfolding beneath them.
Jarod could barely see the car from where they stood besides the broken-down shelter. He thought of making a noise, any noise thinking that an enemy known was better than the silent unknown in front of them. Miss Parker kept hold of shirt, he could feel her trembling and it worried him, wondering what had been done to change her personality so profound.
The gun waved again. Turning, he could faintly make out a trail between the trees. During the time they had been inside, a wind had sprung up, the branches creaking in an ancient song while the unseen air moved between the towering trees. He pulled Miss Parker underneath his arm, glancing back occasionally as they made their way on the faint white gravel. It felt surreal, unimaginable. He simmed scenarios, possible escapes but he had no idea what Miss Parker would do. He was sure that she would follow his lead, but he doubted that she had the physical strength for a run through the woods; but to be honest neither did he. So he kept limping, Miss Parker at his side with the darkened menace of the gun-wielding hand following sinisterly behind them.
**********
Safe house – 24:00
Margaret crouched in the heavy underbrush just south of the house. The pistol she had taken from the man felt heavy in her right hand. Her left came up slowly, indicating to her daughter to move five steps left of her current position. She waited, ignoring the sweat that was starting to drip down her face. The faintest whisper of a twig being tread on alerted her to the man that was sneaking up on Emily. She could just make out his form as he froze, waiting to see whether he had been discovered. She still did not move, her own breath held in hope. Apparently satisfied, he continued his movement forward. She barely registered the white of his eyes that was focused on her daughter's back. He stepped past her position, oblivious of her presence. His hand rose, and with it hers. Both silent and intent on their task. She used all the strength when she brought the butt of the gun down on the hapless man's head. She watched the body crumble, her hand aching from the shock that had sprung through the gun’s frame. She gave a small smile to Emily, to show her that she was fine. One thought settled in her mind.
'Two down, one to go.”
**********
Undisclosed vicinity – 24:10
Lyle once again looked at his watch. Impatiently he wondered whether Jarod had decided to make his escape. He could think of no other reason why he had not seen Willie with Jarod and Parker in tow. Swearing, he opened his phone. The number he dialled went unanswered. Thinking of ways to make Jarod pay for the delay, he motioned to the driver to follow him.
The light was diffused, the glow almost imperceptible but enough to guide him to the storm shelter. His gun was out, leading the way inside. He finally made out the darker, unconscious shape of Willie, an expletive leaving his lips. Stepping forward, he knelt next to the dark man. He cruelly slapped at Willie’s face until the other moaned, his head turning sideways. Standing, he watched the dark man lift a hand to his head, coming back dripping wet. His voice was deceptively calm, the cold dripping ice on each syllable.
“Where are they?”
Confused brown eyes looked at him, Willie still waking to the realisation of what had happened to him. Lyle’s anger increased, just barely contained in its cage. Willie must have seen the look, grunting a hoarse answer in staccato.
“There was someone else. Miss Parker and Jarod had just stepped through when he must have hit me from behind.”
Lyle let go of another more colourful expletive. Following the stairs back out, he made a full turn, the creaking trees staring back at him. Grabbing the flashlight from the driver, he took a good look at his feet. The footprints were there, the imprint from Jarod’s shoe distinctive. The hours he had spent outdoors now came handy; he could clearly see the third set of footprints that meant that there was only one attacker.
Good.
The driver followed as he started tracking his prey, the adrenaline surging comfortably through his veins. No one had the right to take his property and get away with it.
**********
Safe house – 24:15
'She's good. No wonder the Centre had difficulty in tracking her.'
He had found Karl, unconscious from a heavy blow to the head. He doubted whether Karl would ever wake up. Leaving the man behind him, he followed the tracks as best he could. He nearly stumbled over the second body. Dropping to his haunches, he felt for a pulse. A faint beat touched his fingertips. Gordon was out for the count and from what he could determine, will be for the rest of the night. A small smile settled on his face.
Finally, in all the years he had spent in his profession he once again had a worthy advisory. They were so few and they were always far in-between. Jarod was the only one who had come close to capture him. If not for the fact that he had that file on Emily to bargain with, he would certainly have been caught. Jarod was so predictable in his efforts to protect and find his family that he would do almost anything to ascertain those goals. That is a weakness that Lyle would definitely exploit, the boy alone was enough to enforce cooperation. With the added bonus of knowing his father was in the clutches of the Centre, it would guarantee Jarod’s willingness to do anything in order to protect him from further harm. He knew, even with Lyle's threats if he failed to find Major Charles, that apprehending this family would become his prime achievement. When he had handed them over to the Centre, he would retire. He had thought about this, and he did not think anyone else would ever be able to present him with the same challenge than this family did.
Breathing slowly, he stepped over the body. He knew that the woman would be somewhere close by; they wouldn't go too far from the house. What they did not know was that he had one more surprise addition to his team. He was waiting by the road, making sure that no one escaped down that way to intercept the Major and the paramedic when they returned. He wanted to have the woman under his control in the house by the time they came back. He had two hours more, he reckoned, before their return.
**********
Undisclosed vicinity
The house slowly came into view. The clearing was small, barely big enough to be called that. The house was barely that, a little more than four log walls with a closed door and window facing them. The aggressive shake of the muzzle forced them on, continuing the silent walk towards the house.
The door they entered creaked ominously, increasing the haunted feel of the clearing and its sole occupant. They heard the door answer in closure, the final click as the lock was engaged increasing the feeling of dread that had settled in Jarod’s heart. He pulled Parker closer, no idea how he could protect her. He could feel the increased beat of her panic, her face pressed into his side. The cold wetness of her silent tears increased his grip around her, pulling her even closer into the enclosure of his arms. The moans from the wind creeping through holes in the walls created a mockery of ghostly life in the complete darkness that surrounded them. He couldn’t see where the gunman was, and that increased his fear for Parker’s safety even more.
The scrap of sulphur against phosphor startled both of them. The flame showed bright, the light expanding to the hand that held it. Slowly, the flame was brought higher, throwing chilling shadows across the face of the man who held the burning fire.
“Alex.”
His whispered growl chained the wind, creating a void that incorporated the grinning sociopath and them, cutting of all reality of the world around them. Boxing them in, he watched as the flame burned ever lower. Just before the end would come with burned fingers, the flame was sheaved into a storm lantern, given life again.
“You know, Jarod, life is precious or so society proclaims. Personally, I find the manipulation of life so much more rewarding.”
Jarod suppressed his anger, his arm protective, keeping the brunette close to him while he tried to think why Alex had him brought here. He waited, aware of the silent gunman that hovered behind them.
“Take Miss Parker for example.”
Jarod took a step forward, his angry denial just starting when the click of the safety being released stopped him. His defiant gaze settled on Alex, glaring daggers on the unconcerned man.
“The well-known Ice Queen that hid beneath daddy’s lies in the hope that he would show her some affection, maybe even the illusion of fatherly love.”
Jarod could feel the tensing of Parker’s muscles beneath his arms. Her tears had dried, she was listening and he wondered how he could spare her from what Alex was saying. He wanted to shatter the words, to prevent them from surrounding Miss Parker but he could no more stop them then he could stop the sun from shining.
“You should have seen her when she saw daddy’s head. I must say that it was one of my best artwork yet and she believed it to be real. That grief she showed was definitely not earned but she gave it willingly.”
Miss Parker gasped, her mind conjuring the face again in the macabre setting of the cupboard. Her defences still weak, barely recovered from the last emotional torture, she felt them crumble again. The only strength that kept her from collapsing completely was the sound of Jarod’s heart close to her ear, his arm tight around her. Jarod’s deep voice filled his chest, she could hear them boom from inside, momentarily drowning the sound of his heart.
“What do you want?”
Smiling, the sociopath leaned into the chair he sat in.
“I told you before, Jarod. You never listen, ignoring all the obvious facts that screamed at you from right under your own nose. I will say this again, for your sake. Why assume that I want anything…from you.”
Jarod closed his eyes for a brief moment. He could feel the weight of the forgotten flashlight in his right hand, an escape plan starting to take form.
“If not me, from whom then?”
“You’re the genius, figure it out. Why should I make it any easier for you?” Alex chuckled, genuinely amused by Jarod’s question.
“Somebody’s giving orders and its not you. Who is it?”
“Why, I’m hurt Jarod." Pouting, Alex's cold eyes settled on his. A sinister smile played on his features, his one hand pushing the box of matches next to the lamp.
"After all, I’m a pretender too, or have you forgotten. You keep coming back to the question that I’m not alone…that there is some big powerful overseer behind me handing out orders. Sorry to disappoint you but all this is my doing." He paused, his hand tapping the box, making a small hallow sound. Turning his head, his gaze narrowed on the pretender standing before him. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he gave another low chuckle. His next statement sent slivers of cold ice running down Jarod's back.
"But, as in all true characterisations, I needed a henchman and that is what Mark back there fulfils. I personally cut out his tongue. A nice touch, don’t you think?”
Jarod saw the slight twitch in the corner of Alex’s mouth. Enough for him to confirm that his suspicions are true. He remembered the last time they had met, the final words before Alex had slipped and fell.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you. This takes more skill and subtlety that you could ever hope to achieve.”
Jarod shifted slightly, his stance readying, waiting for the outburst from Alex. And he was not disappointed.
**********
Safe house – 24:30
They had no idea where the third man was. She had caught a quick glimpse of him when they had double backed, enough for her to know that he was dangerous. Following her mom's directions, she crept slowly forward, aware of the night sounds around her. Her right hand held the gun they took of the second man that had stalked them, the grip unfamiliar but not uncomfortably so. The sound of crickets suddenly stilled, froze her in place. It was somewhere to the right of where she crouched. She cursed the silence, her gut tightening with each passing second. She nearly let out a sigh of relief when they singsong started again. Her gaze met those of her mother’s, as they slowly started moving forward again. Another command from her mom, and she moved two steps further, widening the gap between them. She tried to swallow; her mouth was dry with tension. Eyes darting, she stopped briefly to allow her tense leg muscles just to relax for a second.
The first indication she had that someone was behind her was when a hand snaked around her head, covering her mouth and nose. She started to retaliate, her left leg kicking backwards, hard. It only met air, the person twisting away from the kick. Her elbow rose and before she could do anything else, was pinned to her side. His arm pulled her tight against his body; she could feel his sinewy muscles ripple against her back. The hand that kept her close pushed the hard muzzle of a gun against the tender flesh on the underside of her chin. A harsh, whispered command followed. She opened her hand, dropping the gun she had held. Her body bucked in response to the air that failed to flow past the grip he had on her face. Darkness started to edge into her consciousness when she felt his hand slowly release her. Gratefully, gulping in air she tried to shift in his hold. His veiled threats stopped her, whispers of promises that would come true if she tried anything. She tried to see where her mom was, her eyes shifting towards her left. Nothing. She started to open her mouth when the gun pushed hard into her flesh, breaking the skin. A grunt left her; she could feel the blood pushing a path down her throat.
“Margaret, it’s over. Your daughter’s life is in your hands. I want you to step forward, hands raised.”
She could hear the gravely voice, her hand steady that held the gun. She knew that to live, she needed to kill the person who held her daughter. The grunt of pain from her daughter clenched her insides into knots. She was so close to having her family back together again and she would fight with everything she had in order for it to happen. She needed time to think, to work her way around behind them. She started towards her right, aware of where her daughter’s breathing increased in pain.
“You have five seconds, then say goodbye to another child.”
“No, don’t hurt her.”
She tried to stall, the answer allowing her to move another few feet around them. The sound of a gun going off, striking flesh stopped her in her tracks. No, please. Oh God, let her be all right. She heard her daughter’s cry of pain, nearly breaking her heart in half.
“The next one will kill, Margaret. Do you want another child’s death on your conscience? …Margaret?”
“I…I'm coming out.”
She took another few steps. She could hear Emily’s quiet sobs, the impatient breathing of the man that held her. She threw the gun into the general area, then stepping into view with her arms raised. She could just make out the figure of the man, Emily tight against his body. Her left arm hang uselessly next to her side, the blood dripping dark against her white skin.
“You just saved her life. Now I want you to turn around and kneel. Keep your fingers interlocked behind you're head. Try anything, and you'll watch Emily die. Am I clear?"
Emily watched her mother nod stiffly, her gaze trying to explain her actions. She took a pain filled breath, her arm throbbing. She could feel the blood drip from her fingertips, big, dark drops that swelled and fell as gravity pulled them down. The gun was still tucked underneath her chin, a dark bruise already forming around the small circle of broken skin where the barrel had pushed in. She nearly let out a whimper of grief when she watched her mother turn and kneel on the ground. Whispering threats, the man behind her released her, pushing her towards her mother. His hand on her shoulder, he forced her to kneel. She could hear his hand rustle in his clothes before the familiar clink of cuffs filled the air. She started to turn her head, a harsh warning pulling it forward again. She was waiting for the cold steel to snap around her wrist when a gunshot rang out. Her first thought was that he had shot her mother, her eyes frantically pulling left to meet the confused gaze of Margaret. Turning around, she watched the body of the man that had held them, collapse to the ground. His face had a comic look of disbelief on it, as if this reality should not have happened.
"Emily?"
Rising, Margaret stepped to her daughter, only to get there at the same time as Harry. Watching in wonder, she saw her husband step from the brush, the smoking gun still in his hand.
"How…"
"We were close enough to hear the gunshot. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone."
His arm pointed to the body on the ground, his words uttered with contempt.
"This was the man that had delivered J back to the Centre. If it wasn't for him, we would have been safe.” Her husband's arm pulled her close into an embrace. His voice changed, gentleness evident when he whispered, “I'm just grateful that you and Emily have not been seriously hurt."
She turned to where Harry was helping her daughter to stand.
"Where's Jarod and J?" Emily asked, her arm roughly bandaged and resting in a sling, the throbbing a little bit better. She was leaning tiredly into Harry, his one arm gripping her waist, the other her arm. Her brown eyes were fixed on her father’s, waiting for an explanation from him.
"There were some complications. I have no idea if Mr White has contacted the Centre or not. Either way, we have to get away from here. I'll explain what happened on the way," he answered, starting towards where they had parked the car.
**********
Log house
Jarod watched Alex rise from the chair like an avenging angel, the storm lantern throwing shadows across his face that moved and writhed in anger so primeval that the remembrance of it was a vague pinprick on the time-line of life. He had to take an involuntary step back from the surreal image before him, his left leg nearly giving way beneath his body. His hand tightened on the woman that stood next to him to keep him from stumbling. He could feel the tension and play of her muscles beneath his hand when she resolutely stood fast to provide the support he needed.
That step was all it took. Miss Parker seemed to awake from her dream, her tear-streaked face angling towards his determined face, his hand still holding tight to her arm. It was in that moment that time stood still, that all the things he had always wanted to say to her seemed to flow between their hearts. Intertwining, understanding. It was the perfect moment of communication, his intent as visible to her as if he had said it aloud. He felt her muscles ripple, her legs spreading slightly to help steady his stance. Her gaze was clear, ready for the action he was about to take.
His hand drew back, the flashlight twirling from it, his body enfolding hers as he pulled both of them towards the ground. Time returned with the flashlight crashing into the lamp. The glass shattered, splinters showering Alex’s arms, slicing through his clothing. The flame spluttered and leaped with the spilling gasoline, hungrily consuming the dry wood and Alex’s cloth where the fuel splatters had fallen. The matchbox ignited with a hiss and flare, fuelling the rapidly spreading flame. Alex’s screams was enough to draw Mark to his side, clumsily trying to hit at the flames that were quickly spreading. Ignoring the chaos behind them, Jarod rose, pulling Parker with him. The key was still in the door, turning it and exiting seemed to take so long, their lungs heaving in the smoke filled air.
Coughing, shaking, they held on to each other as the fell from the room into the warm outside air. They stumbled and crawled till they had moved away from the ever-increasing heat that growled behind them, the house now totally consumed in its hunger. Jarod stopped, his leg finally succumbing to the physical exertion he had put on. Rolling onto his back, he watched the flames shoot into the sky, the roar and crackle loud in his ears. His eyes streamed with tears, soot covering his clothes and face. His head rolled sideways, meeting those of Parker's. She was sitting by his side, bent over and gulping big mouthfuls of air. His hand reached for her before his own need for air started hacking coughs. The heaving of their bodies as they drew in clean air, expunging the foul air in violent explosions; kept the words inside but it didn’t matter.
Something had happened inside and with it the knowledge that against all odds, the ending of their story had forever been changed.
**********
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