Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: Do any of us really own anything? Can anyone claim to possess the lives of these characters that we hold so dear? You betcha. But it isn’t me. Don’t own them. Just borrowing them. This is just my feeble attempt to keep the Pretender alive and well until we finally get to find him again on DVD release. If anyone tries to sue, I’ll disavow all knowledge.
-
The Straight Path Lost Part 2
- By Phenyx
06/07/2004
-
Sam leaned against the wall in Sydney’s office and did what sweepers do best. He drifted into the background so seamlessly that he doubted anyone else realized he was in the room. It was a sweeper’s job to blend in, to exist unnoticed, until required to do otherwise. At that point, when they were needed, sweepers became something else entirely.
Intimidation was what Sam was needed for most often. Like a big, burly bouncer in a popular club, it was often a sweeper’s job to look menacing in order to keep control. At other times, stronger means were necessary. A sweeper could be called upon to do many things, from protecting an innocent to assassinating politicians, and Sam had done it all during his years of employ.
Sam had been a Centre sweeper for more than a decade and a half. As the years had slipped by, Sam found himself pledging his loyalty less to the Centre and more to a single branch within the Tower’s upper echelon. That lone individual sat just a few yards away, her nicely rounded backside cushioned in the psychiatrist’s leather chair. Her long, nylon clad legs stretched out so that her crossed ankles could perch on the edge of the desk.
To the casual observer, one would think that her beauty was what instilled devotion. It was true that the woman turned heads. She knew that and ruthlessly used it to her advantage. Yet, although she was arguably the most devastatingly gorgeous thing Sam had ever laid eyes upon, it was not attraction to Miss Parker’s long legs that drew him to her side.
Among the Centre’s twisted ruling family, only Miss Parker still walked in the light of sanity. Sam followed his orders regardless of where they came from, but with Miss Parker, he felt fewer shadows weighing on his soul as a result. Her father, rotting in hell if there was a god, had been a cold and calculating son-of-a-bitch who had authorized incredible atrocities in order to increase the Centre’s profit margin. Mr. Raines, her uncle, was a power hungry, walking corpse with a knack for tormenting others.
The worst among them was Mr. Lyle. Fiendishly clever, Miss Parker’s twin was always plotting, always calculating his way into the Triumvirate’s good graces. His goal was to gain control of the Tower and take over as chairman, no matter what the cost.
Miss Parker managed to keep them all at bay. Sam didn’t understand how she did it. He doubted Miss Parker knew herself. Perhaps it was her obsession with the truth. Maybe her continuous nosing around in The Centre’s darkest secrets, kept the people hiding them too busy to do anything else. Whatever it was, Miss Parker held some intangible power within The Centre, even if she did not realize it.
How else could Sam explain the continued existence of the people in this room? Between them, these four had stolen secrets and given them to the one person who could use them best. Sam knew for a fact that they had all aided the missing pretender in one way or another, intentionally or not. Other people had vanished from this Earth for far less meaningful crimes against the Centre. Yet Broots had partnered with Jarod for a brief time and lived to see another day. Sydney had always had a soft spot for his pupil and had actively prevented his capture more than once. Why did they still breathe? It was Miss Parker who protected them. She would allow nothing to harm them.
Sam shifted slightly though not enough to draw attention. Miss Parker was only half listening to Broots and Sydney as they rattled on about some new idea they had for tracking Jarod. They would blather on. Miss Parker would approve the plan. The scheme would come close working if they were lucky, but the pretender would still escape. Sam knew they would never catch Jarod, especially now that he had found his family. Jarod had so much more to lose now that they were reunited. The quarry with more to lose became far more dangerous prey.
A familiar tone chirped through the air. Sam watched as the others all got the “whose cell phone is ringing?” looks on their faces. Miss Parker rolled her eyes and sat up, drawing those long legs from the desktop and out of Sam’s line of vision. As another ring pierced the air, Miss Parker patted her suit pockets, trying to determine the exact location of the device.
She finally located the cell phone and with a flip of her wrist, placed it to her ear. “What?” she said wearily.
Sam was immediately on the alert as he watched Miss Parker’s body language change. Her back straightened regally and her face pinched in a frown. She bolted up from the chair to stand angrily beside Sydney’s desk.
“Surrounded?” Parker growled into the receiver. “What the hell are you talking about? How do you know?”
By now all three men in the room were staring at Miss Parker with concern. Sam felt a rush of adrenaline as Miss Parker glanced around, startled fear beginning to register in her eyes.
“Jarod,” she began. The pretender must have cut her off for Miss Parker nodded as though he could see her. “We need to go.” Miss Parker said to the stunned trio watching. “The Centre is under attack.”
“There are procedures to follow,” Sydney argued.
Miss Parker whirled around. “There is no time,” she yelled. “We go NOW. Follow me. Sam, cover our flank.”
Dashing into the hallway, Miss Parker ran for the stairwell, her cell phone still attached to her ear. “Jarod,” she said, glancing behind her to check her team’s progress. “We haven’t destroyed any of our files. I don’t think Sydney has even logged out of his computer.”
Their footsteps clattered down the stairs, echoing ominously. They went down, twirling around the railing at each landing until Sam began to feel a bit dizzy. Yet still they continued their descent.
“Angelo!” Sydney cried suddenly. “We must find Angelo!”
“Sorry Syd,” Miss Parker replied. “I’m afraid he’s on his own this time.”
Sam caught the doctor’s worried glance and felt a moment of remorse. Angelo had always been a strange and unpredictable creature but Sam knew that the empath would only hinder their escape.
“What about my daughter?” Broots panted.
Miss Parker barreled down the steps, talking as she went. “Jarod,” she spoke into the phone. “We need to get to Debbie.”
Miss Parker listened for several minutes, obviously taking instructions from the pretender on the other end of the line. “I’m on SL-24,” she said, halting for a moment on that level. “I’m about to lose this connection.”
After another pause she growled, ”Very funny Rat-boy. Just tell me how long we should wait.” Glancing at her watch, Miss Parker nodded again and said, “Right. Don’t be late Jarod.” With that, she ended the call and tucked her cell phone into her pocket.
Running as though the devil was on her heels, Miss Parker rushed down the next flight of stairs. She relayed Jarod’s directions over her shoulder. “We won’t be able to get out while the facility is under assault. We have to hide until the coast is clear.”
“There is little doubt,” Sydney heaved. “That the authorities will carefully search every level.”
“That is why we’ll hide on the level that doesn’t exist,” Parker explained. “We lay low until nightfall and then slip by the police once it’s dark.”
As Sam reached the last stair, he heard a far away popping sound as it echoed down the stairwell from 26 levels away. “Gun fire,” he said simply as he glanced toward Miss Parker.
She made no sign indicating that she had heard him. Rushing through a dimly lit hallway, Miss Parker found the metal hatch in the floor that led to SL- 27. Clambering down the ladder, the group found themselves fumbling in the dark. None of them had brought a flashlight.
“Damn,” Miss Parker muttered. “I wish I hadn’t quit smoking. At least I’d have a lighter.”
“I have one,” Sam spoke up. Creating a makeshift torch with Sydney’s handkerchief and a broken chair leg, Sam was able to light the way just enough for the four to continue.
“Jarod said we should take the corridor on the left,” Miss Parker said. “All the way to the end.”
The going was slow. Debris from the explosion two years ago had never been completely cleared. As a result, the group was forced to edge around the mess. When they could go no further, Sam turned toward Miss Parker and waited. He watched curiously as she stepped up to the wall.
Holding the flickering torch aloft, Sam did his best to light Miss Parker’s way, but he wasn’t quite sure where the illumination was needed. She placed both palms on the wall and caressed the flat surface. Mimicking his boss’s actions, Sam began to feel the smooth wall with his free hand. The plaster was even and cool to the touch. It had that faintly cushioned feel to it as though there were too many layers of paint covering the surface.
When Sam’s fingertips brushed across a mild ridge, he nearly missed it. In the dim light, he couldn’t see anything unusual but the perfectly vertical line was definitely there. “Miss Parker,” Sam called.
Turning toward him, Miss Parker pushed Sam aside and felt for the abnormality. She clawed at the line with her fingernails until it pulled apart with a whisper of sound. The line became a crack, the crack an opening, as Miss Parker yanked hard on the hidden doorway.
“Check it out,” she commanded.
Sam ducked into the crevice that had formed and found a narrow tunnel. Dust covered and draped in old spider webs, the corridor was little more than two feet wide, forcing Sam to stand sideways to accommodate his body. There was no telling how far the tunnel went. Sam scouted the first several yards, holding his light in front of him in order to see as much as he could.
“It’s pretty narrow,” Sam reported back to Miss Parker. “Not a lot of room.”
“Good thing none of us are claustrophobic,” she drawled as she ushered the others into the hidden area. “Help me, Sam,” Miss Parker ordered. Between them, she and Sam were able to pull the secret door closed with a thud. Brushing her hands off, Miss Parker sighed and said, “We’ll wait here.”
Sam took a position between Miss Parker and the closed doorway. He leaned against one wall and tried to get comfortable. He did his best to keep the flame burning on his torch for as long as possible. But all too soon, the cloth was consumed. The wooden handle had a shiny painted coating that wouldn’t burn. As a result, they were soon immersed in darkness.
Total darkness is not something one comes across everyday. Sam spent his time admiring the simplicity of it. Unable to see his hand in front of his face, he felt disoriented at first. He couldn’t tell up from down. The people with him could have been miles away rather than separated by only a few feet.
As his other senses adjusted to the pitch black, Sam could feel the strange floating sensation disappear. He knew that Miss Parker was to his immediate left. He could smell the soft flowery scent of her perfume and sense the warm softness of her. She was breathing deeply and regularly, indicating that she was probably asleep.
Sam could hear a fidgeting rustle on Miss Parker’s other side. Mr. Broots was jerking fitfully at regular intervals as though he was afraid of the creatures that may be crawling over him in the dark. His breathing was rapid and labored, seeming very loud in the confined space.
The sweeper knew that Sydney was with them. He could sense the psychiatrist’s presence more than he could hear it. Once in a while, Sam heard the older man as he shifted his feet or changed his position. But for the most part, Sydney was quiet.
Time ceased to have any meaning as Sam listened to the void. At some point, he must have dozed off because he felt himself abruptly snapped back into consciousness. The blackness around him was still thick as he glanced around him. Had he heard something? He strained his ears but found nothing except the mild snores of someone nearby, probably Broots.
Sam shifted, trying to improve the circulation in his limbs. Another faint sound reached him, setting him on the alert. He straightened and listened again. As he cocked his head, he peered into the darkness. Could he see a dark shape curled on the floor at his feet? Perhaps he was imagining it, but Sam crouched down and reached for the barely discernable shadow.
The blob was little more than a darker shape in the blackness, yet when Sam touched it, he found Miss Parker’s shoulder. He nudged his boss from her sleep. “Miss Parker,” he whispered.
Sam’s boss woke quickly.
“Someone is coming,” Sam told her. “There is a light approaching.”
As the sweeper spoke, more illumination filtered into the area. Looking over his shoulder, Sam could see a turn in the corridor only a few yards further down. From around that corner, a beam of light wavered, growing stronger with each moment.
Miss Parker leaned down and covering Broots’ mouth with her hand, shook him awake. Sam pulled his weapon from its holster, aiming toward the unknown figure that approached. He edged past Sydney, giving the doctor a gentle kick to rouse him. Sam placed himself between the beam of light and the others, protecting his charges as best he could.
With a click that seemed to echo in the quiet corridor, Miss Parker cocked her pistol and stood at Sam’s side. Together they held their ground, ready for whatever fate could throw at them. They waited in silence as the beam, obviously a flashlight, bounced closer. Just before the light would have rounded the corner, it halted abruptly. Sam raised his gun, ready to fire.
“Miss Parker,” a voice called cautiously down the hall.
“Jarod.” Miss Parker huffed. “You’re damn lucky we didn’t put a bullet in your ass.”
The pretender rounded the corner and pointed his flashlight at the tense little group. Even hidden behind the ray of light, Sam could see Jarod’s rakish grin. “No time for sweet talk, Parker,” he said. “We are under a bit of a time crunch here.”
Jarod handed Sam the flashlight as he deftly pulled another from his belt. The pretender smiled and greeted his old mentor with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
“My daughter,” Broots asked nervously. “What has happened to my daughter?”
“She’s fine,” Jarod reassured him. “Debbie is waiting with my mother. She’s a bit confused and probably a little frightened, but she’ll be okay once she sees you, Mr. Broots.”
“Let’s go,” Miss Parker said as she headed back the way Jarod had just come. “Is it far?” She asked the pretender.
“Far enough,” he replied. Jarod led them through the winding corridor. He kept his voice low as he spoke. “The authorities are all over the place. There are soldiers and police officers with dogs searching the grounds.”
“How will we get by them?” Sydney asked.
“Carefully,” Jarod answered. “And as quickly as possible. Alex has made us all very unpopular people.”
“What has that lunatic done now?” Miss Parker asked in an icy tone.
“I believe the phrase ‘sang like a canary’ is appropriate,” Jarod said. “He won’t shut up. The reporters are standing in line to interview him.”
“Why would they believe that nut?” Miss Parker shook her head.
Jarod shrugged. “Mainly because everything he’s telling them is true,” he admitted. “The Centre has been training pretenders to kill for years. Terrorist plot is just another term for what we call simulations.”
“Jarod.” Sydney scolded. “That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?”
The pretender stopped and turned to look forlornly at his aging mentor. Even in the dim light, Sam could see the hardness glittering in Jarod’s black eyes.
“No, Sydney,” Jarod answered. “I don’t think it is harsh at all.”
“How much further?” Miss Parker interrupted when it appeared that Sydney might argue.
“This way,” Jarod led on without really answering the question.
They continued to make their way through what Sam recognized as a maintenance access. The narrow corridor seemed even smaller now because cables and pipes lining the walls had thickened dramatically as they moved onward. The group fell silent as the floor sloped steeply upward. The smell of fresh air floated into Sam’s senses.
After what seemed to be hours of walking, they came to the end of the passageway. Jarod shouldered open a heavy metal door and peered out. As they filed quietly through the opening, Sam looked up and saw thousands of stars twinkling in a clear night sky. The moon was shining but only at half crescent, so there was enough light to see the way but little more than that.
Sam waited as Jarod stepped out of the brush that hid the door they had just come through.
“Move quickly and quietly,” the pretender whispered. “There is a van waiting on the road about half a mile north of here.”
With a final glance around, the pretender grabbed Sydney by the arm and started to hurry across the grass toward a large stand of trees. Sam gave Broots a shove in the general direction and followed Miss Parker as she ran after Jarod. They made it to the trees without incident.
The pretender was fast. Sam knew from experience that Jarod could easily outdistance them. But the pretender was not fleeing from them this time. Instead he was running with them, so his speed was hampered by Sydney’s abilities. It was an eerily quiet dash through the dark. Trees flashed by as Sam ran. Across the night, a dog barked and then another. There was a shout from behind.
Sam was right on Miss Parker’s heels as they burst from the tree line and onto another field of grass. Excited voices filtered through the trees. They were being chased.
Sam glanced at his boss, silently begging her to hurry. Sam could have put forth a bit more speed but he wanted to stay between Miss Parker and the barking dogs to the rear. She ran, the tails of her suit jacket billowing behind her like a cape. Jarod was nearly dragging Sydney, urging him to go faster. Broots, spurned on by fear, was dashing ahead of the rest of them.
“Halt or I’ll shoot!” a deep male voice hollered.
They ran.
“Halt!”
The first shot that rang through the air was from a 9mm handgun. Sam could tell from the sound. What followed was a staccato echoing of a variety of different calibers. Broots began to whimper but otherwise the fugitives ran on unfazed.
Sam heard the bullet hit him. Fired from a rifle, the shot blasted into the sweeper with the force of a two-ton truck. The force of impact pushed Sam forward with a jerk. He slid to his knees with a stunned look on his face. Looking down, he saw a large red stain spreading across his chest, darkening the white silk shirt he wore.
“Jarod!” Miss Parker screamed. She turned and ran to Sam’s side, trying to help him up.
“Keep going,” Jarod yelled at Sydney and Broots before coming to Sam’s aid. But before Jarod could get to the fallen sweeper, one of the bullets zinging through the air caught Miss Parker in the chest. She went down immediately.
Jarod knelt at Sam’s side, unable to spare a moment for Miss Parker just yet. Sam couldn’t breathe. It was as if the air was made of water, too thick to inhale. He lay there, gazing up at the stars as he felt the life draining from his body.
“Hang in there, Sam,” Jarod murmured as he yanked Sam’s shirt away from his chest.
“Too late,” Sam gasped. “I’m a goner.”
Jarod glanced at the exit wound. The look on the pretender’s face told Sam the truth of it.
“Miss Parker,” Sam said, clutching Jarod’s jacket with one bloodied hand.
Jarod looked over at the fallen woman for a moment before answering. “She’s alive.”
“Get her out,” Sam breathed. “Nothing else matters.”
The pretender nodded solemnly.
“Promise me. Promise you’ll get her out of here,” Sam frowned. The stars had faded into the blackness above. “Go!”
Jarod knelt at Miss Parker’s side long enough to check her pulse. Then he lifted her onto his shoulder and stood. Sam glared meaningfully at the pretender and lifted his gun. Jarod nodded once, turned and fled.
With the last of his strength, Sam rolled onto his stomach and steadied his aim. The figures approaching from the woods were no more than blurring shadows. Sam fired at them nonetheless. His shots had the desired effect. The figures chasing them fell back, looking for cover among the trees.
The sweeper fired the last round from his clip before he lost consciousness. He died moments later with his eyes open and his gun in his hand.
-
-
The Straight Path Lost Part 2
- By Phenyx
06/07/2004
-
Sam leaned against the wall in Sydney’s office and did what sweepers do best. He drifted into the background so seamlessly that he doubted anyone else realized he was in the room. It was a sweeper’s job to blend in, to exist unnoticed, until required to do otherwise. At that point, when they were needed, sweepers became something else entirely.
Intimidation was what Sam was needed for most often. Like a big, burly bouncer in a popular club, it was often a sweeper’s job to look menacing in order to keep control. At other times, stronger means were necessary. A sweeper could be called upon to do many things, from protecting an innocent to assassinating politicians, and Sam had done it all during his years of employ.
Sam had been a Centre sweeper for more than a decade and a half. As the years had slipped by, Sam found himself pledging his loyalty less to the Centre and more to a single branch within the Tower’s upper echelon. That lone individual sat just a few yards away, her nicely rounded backside cushioned in the psychiatrist’s leather chair. Her long, nylon clad legs stretched out so that her crossed ankles could perch on the edge of the desk.
To the casual observer, one would think that her beauty was what instilled devotion. It was true that the woman turned heads. She knew that and ruthlessly used it to her advantage. Yet, although she was arguably the most devastatingly gorgeous thing Sam had ever laid eyes upon, it was not attraction to Miss Parker’s long legs that drew him to her side.
Among the Centre’s twisted ruling family, only Miss Parker still walked in the light of sanity. Sam followed his orders regardless of where they came from, but with Miss Parker, he felt fewer shadows weighing on his soul as a result. Her father, rotting in hell if there was a god, had been a cold and calculating son-of-a-bitch who had authorized incredible atrocities in order to increase the Centre’s profit margin. Mr. Raines, her uncle, was a power hungry, walking corpse with a knack for tormenting others.
The worst among them was Mr. Lyle. Fiendishly clever, Miss Parker’s twin was always plotting, always calculating his way into the Triumvirate’s good graces. His goal was to gain control of the Tower and take over as chairman, no matter what the cost.
Miss Parker managed to keep them all at bay. Sam didn’t understand how she did it. He doubted Miss Parker knew herself. Perhaps it was her obsession with the truth. Maybe her continuous nosing around in The Centre’s darkest secrets, kept the people hiding them too busy to do anything else. Whatever it was, Miss Parker held some intangible power within The Centre, even if she did not realize it.
How else could Sam explain the continued existence of the people in this room? Between them, these four had stolen secrets and given them to the one person who could use them best. Sam knew for a fact that they had all aided the missing pretender in one way or another, intentionally or not. Other people had vanished from this Earth for far less meaningful crimes against the Centre. Yet Broots had partnered with Jarod for a brief time and lived to see another day. Sydney had always had a soft spot for his pupil and had actively prevented his capture more than once. Why did they still breathe? It was Miss Parker who protected them. She would allow nothing to harm them.
Sam shifted slightly though not enough to draw attention. Miss Parker was only half listening to Broots and Sydney as they rattled on about some new idea they had for tracking Jarod. They would blather on. Miss Parker would approve the plan. The scheme would come close working if they were lucky, but the pretender would still escape. Sam knew they would never catch Jarod, especially now that he had found his family. Jarod had so much more to lose now that they were reunited. The quarry with more to lose became far more dangerous prey.
A familiar tone chirped through the air. Sam watched as the others all got the “whose cell phone is ringing?” looks on their faces. Miss Parker rolled her eyes and sat up, drawing those long legs from the desktop and out of Sam’s line of vision. As another ring pierced the air, Miss Parker patted her suit pockets, trying to determine the exact location of the device.
She finally located the cell phone and with a flip of her wrist, placed it to her ear. “What?” she said wearily.
Sam was immediately on the alert as he watched Miss Parker’s body language change. Her back straightened regally and her face pinched in a frown. She bolted up from the chair to stand angrily beside Sydney’s desk.
“Surrounded?” Parker growled into the receiver. “What the hell are you talking about? How do you know?”
By now all three men in the room were staring at Miss Parker with concern. Sam felt a rush of adrenaline as Miss Parker glanced around, startled fear beginning to register in her eyes.
“Jarod,” she began. The pretender must have cut her off for Miss Parker nodded as though he could see her. “We need to go.” Miss Parker said to the stunned trio watching. “The Centre is under attack.”
“There are procedures to follow,” Sydney argued.
Miss Parker whirled around. “There is no time,” she yelled. “We go NOW. Follow me. Sam, cover our flank.”
Dashing into the hallway, Miss Parker ran for the stairwell, her cell phone still attached to her ear. “Jarod,” she said, glancing behind her to check her team’s progress. “We haven’t destroyed any of our files. I don’t think Sydney has even logged out of his computer.”
Their footsteps clattered down the stairs, echoing ominously. They went down, twirling around the railing at each landing until Sam began to feel a bit dizzy. Yet still they continued their descent.
“Angelo!” Sydney cried suddenly. “We must find Angelo!”
“Sorry Syd,” Miss Parker replied. “I’m afraid he’s on his own this time.”
Sam caught the doctor’s worried glance and felt a moment of remorse. Angelo had always been a strange and unpredictable creature but Sam knew that the empath would only hinder their escape.
“What about my daughter?” Broots panted.
Miss Parker barreled down the steps, talking as she went. “Jarod,” she spoke into the phone. “We need to get to Debbie.”
Miss Parker listened for several minutes, obviously taking instructions from the pretender on the other end of the line. “I’m on SL-24,” she said, halting for a moment on that level. “I’m about to lose this connection.”
After another pause she growled, ”Very funny Rat-boy. Just tell me how long we should wait.” Glancing at her watch, Miss Parker nodded again and said, “Right. Don’t be late Jarod.” With that, she ended the call and tucked her cell phone into her pocket.
Running as though the devil was on her heels, Miss Parker rushed down the next flight of stairs. She relayed Jarod’s directions over her shoulder. “We won’t be able to get out while the facility is under assault. We have to hide until the coast is clear.”
“There is little doubt,” Sydney heaved. “That the authorities will carefully search every level.”
“That is why we’ll hide on the level that doesn’t exist,” Parker explained. “We lay low until nightfall and then slip by the police once it’s dark.”
As Sam reached the last stair, he heard a far away popping sound as it echoed down the stairwell from 26 levels away. “Gun fire,” he said simply as he glanced toward Miss Parker.
She made no sign indicating that she had heard him. Rushing through a dimly lit hallway, Miss Parker found the metal hatch in the floor that led to SL- 27. Clambering down the ladder, the group found themselves fumbling in the dark. None of them had brought a flashlight.
“Damn,” Miss Parker muttered. “I wish I hadn’t quit smoking. At least I’d have a lighter.”
“I have one,” Sam spoke up. Creating a makeshift torch with Sydney’s handkerchief and a broken chair leg, Sam was able to light the way just enough for the four to continue.
“Jarod said we should take the corridor on the left,” Miss Parker said. “All the way to the end.”
The going was slow. Debris from the explosion two years ago had never been completely cleared. As a result, the group was forced to edge around the mess. When they could go no further, Sam turned toward Miss Parker and waited. He watched curiously as she stepped up to the wall.
Holding the flickering torch aloft, Sam did his best to light Miss Parker’s way, but he wasn’t quite sure where the illumination was needed. She placed both palms on the wall and caressed the flat surface. Mimicking his boss’s actions, Sam began to feel the smooth wall with his free hand. The plaster was even and cool to the touch. It had that faintly cushioned feel to it as though there were too many layers of paint covering the surface.
When Sam’s fingertips brushed across a mild ridge, he nearly missed it. In the dim light, he couldn’t see anything unusual but the perfectly vertical line was definitely there. “Miss Parker,” Sam called.
Turning toward him, Miss Parker pushed Sam aside and felt for the abnormality. She clawed at the line with her fingernails until it pulled apart with a whisper of sound. The line became a crack, the crack an opening, as Miss Parker yanked hard on the hidden doorway.
“Check it out,” she commanded.
Sam ducked into the crevice that had formed and found a narrow tunnel. Dust covered and draped in old spider webs, the corridor was little more than two feet wide, forcing Sam to stand sideways to accommodate his body. There was no telling how far the tunnel went. Sam scouted the first several yards, holding his light in front of him in order to see as much as he could.
“It’s pretty narrow,” Sam reported back to Miss Parker. “Not a lot of room.”
“Good thing none of us are claustrophobic,” she drawled as she ushered the others into the hidden area. “Help me, Sam,” Miss Parker ordered. Between them, she and Sam were able to pull the secret door closed with a thud. Brushing her hands off, Miss Parker sighed and said, “We’ll wait here.”
Sam took a position between Miss Parker and the closed doorway. He leaned against one wall and tried to get comfortable. He did his best to keep the flame burning on his torch for as long as possible. But all too soon, the cloth was consumed. The wooden handle had a shiny painted coating that wouldn’t burn. As a result, they were soon immersed in darkness.
Total darkness is not something one comes across everyday. Sam spent his time admiring the simplicity of it. Unable to see his hand in front of his face, he felt disoriented at first. He couldn’t tell up from down. The people with him could have been miles away rather than separated by only a few feet.
As his other senses adjusted to the pitch black, Sam could feel the strange floating sensation disappear. He knew that Miss Parker was to his immediate left. He could smell the soft flowery scent of her perfume and sense the warm softness of her. She was breathing deeply and regularly, indicating that she was probably asleep.
Sam could hear a fidgeting rustle on Miss Parker’s other side. Mr. Broots was jerking fitfully at regular intervals as though he was afraid of the creatures that may be crawling over him in the dark. His breathing was rapid and labored, seeming very loud in the confined space.
The sweeper knew that Sydney was with them. He could sense the psychiatrist’s presence more than he could hear it. Once in a while, Sam heard the older man as he shifted his feet or changed his position. But for the most part, Sydney was quiet.
Time ceased to have any meaning as Sam listened to the void. At some point, he must have dozed off because he felt himself abruptly snapped back into consciousness. The blackness around him was still thick as he glanced around him. Had he heard something? He strained his ears but found nothing except the mild snores of someone nearby, probably Broots.
Sam shifted, trying to improve the circulation in his limbs. Another faint sound reached him, setting him on the alert. He straightened and listened again. As he cocked his head, he peered into the darkness. Could he see a dark shape curled on the floor at his feet? Perhaps he was imagining it, but Sam crouched down and reached for the barely discernable shadow.
The blob was little more than a darker shape in the blackness, yet when Sam touched it, he found Miss Parker’s shoulder. He nudged his boss from her sleep. “Miss Parker,” he whispered.
Sam’s boss woke quickly.
“Someone is coming,” Sam told her. “There is a light approaching.”
As the sweeper spoke, more illumination filtered into the area. Looking over his shoulder, Sam could see a turn in the corridor only a few yards further down. From around that corner, a beam of light wavered, growing stronger with each moment.
Miss Parker leaned down and covering Broots’ mouth with her hand, shook him awake. Sam pulled his weapon from its holster, aiming toward the unknown figure that approached. He edged past Sydney, giving the doctor a gentle kick to rouse him. Sam placed himself between the beam of light and the others, protecting his charges as best he could.
With a click that seemed to echo in the quiet corridor, Miss Parker cocked her pistol and stood at Sam’s side. Together they held their ground, ready for whatever fate could throw at them. They waited in silence as the beam, obviously a flashlight, bounced closer. Just before the light would have rounded the corner, it halted abruptly. Sam raised his gun, ready to fire.
“Miss Parker,” a voice called cautiously down the hall.
“Jarod.” Miss Parker huffed. “You’re damn lucky we didn’t put a bullet in your ass.”
The pretender rounded the corner and pointed his flashlight at the tense little group. Even hidden behind the ray of light, Sam could see Jarod’s rakish grin. “No time for sweet talk, Parker,” he said. “We are under a bit of a time crunch here.”
Jarod handed Sam the flashlight as he deftly pulled another from his belt. The pretender smiled and greeted his old mentor with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
“My daughter,” Broots asked nervously. “What has happened to my daughter?”
“She’s fine,” Jarod reassured him. “Debbie is waiting with my mother. She’s a bit confused and probably a little frightened, but she’ll be okay once she sees you, Mr. Broots.”
“Let’s go,” Miss Parker said as she headed back the way Jarod had just come. “Is it far?” She asked the pretender.
“Far enough,” he replied. Jarod led them through the winding corridor. He kept his voice low as he spoke. “The authorities are all over the place. There are soldiers and police officers with dogs searching the grounds.”
“How will we get by them?” Sydney asked.
“Carefully,” Jarod answered. “And as quickly as possible. Alex has made us all very unpopular people.”
“What has that lunatic done now?” Miss Parker asked in an icy tone.
“I believe the phrase ‘sang like a canary’ is appropriate,” Jarod said. “He won’t shut up. The reporters are standing in line to interview him.”
“Why would they believe that nut?” Miss Parker shook her head.
Jarod shrugged. “Mainly because everything he’s telling them is true,” he admitted. “The Centre has been training pretenders to kill for years. Terrorist plot is just another term for what we call simulations.”
“Jarod.” Sydney scolded. “That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?”
The pretender stopped and turned to look forlornly at his aging mentor. Even in the dim light, Sam could see the hardness glittering in Jarod’s black eyes.
“No, Sydney,” Jarod answered. “I don’t think it is harsh at all.”
“How much further?” Miss Parker interrupted when it appeared that Sydney might argue.
“This way,” Jarod led on without really answering the question.
They continued to make their way through what Sam recognized as a maintenance access. The narrow corridor seemed even smaller now because cables and pipes lining the walls had thickened dramatically as they moved onward. The group fell silent as the floor sloped steeply upward. The smell of fresh air floated into Sam’s senses.
After what seemed to be hours of walking, they came to the end of the passageway. Jarod shouldered open a heavy metal door and peered out. As they filed quietly through the opening, Sam looked up and saw thousands of stars twinkling in a clear night sky. The moon was shining but only at half crescent, so there was enough light to see the way but little more than that.
Sam waited as Jarod stepped out of the brush that hid the door they had just come through.
“Move quickly and quietly,” the pretender whispered. “There is a van waiting on the road about half a mile north of here.”
With a final glance around, the pretender grabbed Sydney by the arm and started to hurry across the grass toward a large stand of trees. Sam gave Broots a shove in the general direction and followed Miss Parker as she ran after Jarod. They made it to the trees without incident.
The pretender was fast. Sam knew from experience that Jarod could easily outdistance them. But the pretender was not fleeing from them this time. Instead he was running with them, so his speed was hampered by Sydney’s abilities. It was an eerily quiet dash through the dark. Trees flashed by as Sam ran. Across the night, a dog barked and then another. There was a shout from behind.
Sam was right on Miss Parker’s heels as they burst from the tree line and onto another field of grass. Excited voices filtered through the trees. They were being chased.
Sam glanced at his boss, silently begging her to hurry. Sam could have put forth a bit more speed but he wanted to stay between Miss Parker and the barking dogs to the rear. She ran, the tails of her suit jacket billowing behind her like a cape. Jarod was nearly dragging Sydney, urging him to go faster. Broots, spurned on by fear, was dashing ahead of the rest of them.
“Halt or I’ll shoot!” a deep male voice hollered.
They ran.
“Halt!”
The first shot that rang through the air was from a 9mm handgun. Sam could tell from the sound. What followed was a staccato echoing of a variety of different calibers. Broots began to whimper but otherwise the fugitives ran on unfazed.
Sam heard the bullet hit him. Fired from a rifle, the shot blasted into the sweeper with the force of a two-ton truck. The force of impact pushed Sam forward with a jerk. He slid to his knees with a stunned look on his face. Looking down, he saw a large red stain spreading across his chest, darkening the white silk shirt he wore.
“Jarod!” Miss Parker screamed. She turned and ran to Sam’s side, trying to help him up.
“Keep going,” Jarod yelled at Sydney and Broots before coming to Sam’s aid. But before Jarod could get to the fallen sweeper, one of the bullets zinging through the air caught Miss Parker in the chest. She went down immediately.
Jarod knelt at Sam’s side, unable to spare a moment for Miss Parker just yet. Sam couldn’t breathe. It was as if the air was made of water, too thick to inhale. He lay there, gazing up at the stars as he felt the life draining from his body.
“Hang in there, Sam,” Jarod murmured as he yanked Sam’s shirt away from his chest.
“Too late,” Sam gasped. “I’m a goner.”
Jarod glanced at the exit wound. The look on the pretender’s face told Sam the truth of it.
“Miss Parker,” Sam said, clutching Jarod’s jacket with one bloodied hand.
Jarod looked over at the fallen woman for a moment before answering. “She’s alive.”
“Get her out,” Sam breathed. “Nothing else matters.”
The pretender nodded solemnly.
“Promise me. Promise you’ll get her out of here,” Sam frowned. The stars had faded into the blackness above. “Go!”
Jarod knelt at Miss Parker’s side long enough to check her pulse. Then he lifted her onto his shoulder and stood. Sam glared meaningfully at the pretender and lifted his gun. Jarod nodded once, turned and fled.
With the last of his strength, Sam rolled onto his stomach and steadied his aim. The figures approaching from the woods were no more than blurring shadows. Sam fired at them nonetheless. His shots had the desired effect. The figures chasing them fell back, looking for cover among the trees.
The sweeper fired the last round from his clip before he lost consciousness. He died moments later with his eyes open and his gun in his hand.
-
