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Sorry for the long delay between chapters, would say that is wont happen again, but that is probably not true.  Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far, your comments really help the creative muse talking.

Sydney slowly opened his eyes and then quickly shut them. The light pierced his eyes and a metallicy taste filled his mouth. ‘Blood’, he thought somewhat absently, but he had trouble connecting the thought with the taste. Sounds started registering and he could vaguely hear people screaming and the sound of approaching sirens. Then all thought and hearing went away.

Sometime later, Sydney again opened his eyes. A hand was bracing his head back against the seat’s headrest and a voice sounded in his ear.

“Sir, can you hear me? No, don’t try to shake your head.”

Sydney stopped fighting the hand and gave a soft groan. His whole body ached, but he didn’t think he was too badly hurt.

“What happened?” he asked the figure next to him that he now recognized as a paramedic.

“You were in a car accident. Witnesses say that the car that hit yours ran the red light and smashed into the passenger side of your car. Now, can you tell me if you hurt anywhere?”

“No, I’m not hurt, but what about Jarod? Jarod, are you OK? Jarod?”

“Please, sir, calm down, we have people working on your friend, but he is unconscious right now. Just stay calm and we will have you out in just a couple of minutes.”

Sydney’s concern for Jarod grew as he heard the sounds coming from next to him. His paramedic was placing a cervical collar around his throat, so he couldn’t even turn his head to look at Jarod. A minute later, he was strapped to a wooden board, lifted out from behind the steering wheel, placed on a gurney, and whisked away in an ambulance. All without a single sight of Jarod.

When Sydney and his ambulance reached the hospital, he was rushed into a trauma room and given a thorough exam. He was finally diagnosed with a concussion, multiple lacerations, contusions, and a mild case of whiplash. He was wheeled into a semi-private room and put into bed, all without a single word about Jarod’s condition.

Sydney was half-dozing in his bed when the door opened and a white-coated figure entered the room. Sydney tried to sit up straighter, but a surge of pain convinced him to raise the bed instead.

“Hi, my name is Doctor Baker. I am the emergency room doc in charge of your passenger. First off, he is alive, but he was seriously injured.”

Sydney felt his tension rush out of his body, leaving him limp on the bed. He closed his eyes and gave thanks that Jarod was still alive. A small amount of fear still permeated his body, but he knew that they could deal with most injuries. He looked back at the doctor, a question in his eyes.

“Jarod, his name is Jarod. How badly is he injured, Doctor?”

“Yes, he told us that. He came to soon after entering the trauma room. He has given me permission to discuss his case with you.”

Sydney nodded his understanding and waited, somewhat impatiently, for the doctor to continue.

“Based on the information supplied by the paramedics, I would estimate the car the hit yours was traveling at a fairly rapid speed and collided with Jarod’s side of your vehicle. The resulting impact has broken his femur in a couple of spots, dislocated his knee, and caused some internal hemorrhaging. They are prepping him for surgery now.”

Sydney gave a silent thank you to whichever guardian angel Jarod had watching over him, but quickly brought his attention back to the doctor.

“Is there any family we can contact for either of you? We weren’t able to find any identification for Jarod and there was no emergency contact number in your wallet.”

“He’s my son,” Sydney answered without thinking, “there is no other family.”

The doctor made some notes in the chart he held in his hand and then gave Sydney a small smile of encouragement.

“Your chart shows a pretty severe concussion, so we are going to keep you here for a couple of days. Jarod will be in surgery for a while and then in ICU until approximately tomorrow morning. How about we let you bunk together after that?”

Sydney very gingerly nodded his agreement, but then a huge yawn prevented any further response.

“Get some sleep, Doctor; your son will need you tomorrow.” The doctor walked to the door, gave a final goodnight, and quietly closed the door behind him.

Sydney lowered the upper part of his bed and relaxed back against the pillow. His mind was recounting what the doctor had said, but his was his own comment that shocked him. He had called Jarod his son without thinking. True, it was best that the hospital thought they were related, that should keep the Centre from becoming too interested in them, but it wasn’t the truth and Sydney prided himself on being as truthful as possible. He also expected the same standards from Jarod, even if life inside the Centre didn’t always make that goal possible. And the truth was, biologically, he was not Jarod’s father. It should not matter that he had raised the boy and been the one to teach him as a father taught a son. The fact that he was emotionally attached to the boy and had all the parental hopes and expectations for his son did not alter the basic biological fact. Or do it? Sydney fell asleep before the internal debate was concluded.

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To say that Miss Parker was not happy was a gigantic understatement, as far as Broots was concerned. The miss at the apartment complex and the photo Jarod had left behind had infuriated the huntress as little else had. Broots didn’t know the two escapees personally, but he shuddered to think of what Miss Parker would do to them if they were ever caught. But that was a sentiment that Broots very carefully kept hidden down in the deepest regions of his soul. He had a daughter he was trying to gain custody of, a job that he could not quit, and a computer network to play with that rivaled anything Microsoft could offer him.

The rapid pace of the approaching click of high heels told Broots that his boss was quickly nearing his office door and that she was not happy, again. It seemed that each time she was called up to the Tower, his life became hell. Sam told him the sweepers called it the gravity problem. Broots finally figured out that Sam meant everything fell downhill, including the problems and troubles up in the Tower. Broots preferred to paraphrase the saying ‘If Miss Parker ain’t happy, then nobody is happy.’ And something in the click of her heels told Broots that Miss Parker was definitely not happy.

Miss Parker burst into Broots’ office with fire blazing out of her eyes. How dare Raines accuse her of incompetence. Not openly, oh no, not with her father in the room, but his tone, his looks, his insinuations all indicated his true feelings. She could not wait until she brought Sydney and Jarod back to where they belonged. She would rub the fact that she was the one who outthought the genius and his shrink. Then she was going back to Corporate where she belonged and where the sun shone brightly through all the windows in the wholly aboveground building. No more dark hallways and windowless rooms for her. She just had to catch the runaways and for that she needed the debatable competence of Broots.

“Where are they, Broots? Not where were they. Notice the present tense on the verb ‘are’. That means currently, not in the past. I am tired of getting to their latest location only to find them long gone.”

“I can’t explain it, Miss Parker. All the locations I have given you have been current sightings. It’s almost like they know when we are coming.”

Parker glared at Broots.

“What, you think they have a spy inside the Centre? Imbecile. No one is stupid enough to help them; they would be a candidate for the Renewal Wing if they were ever caught.”

“Maybe Jarod has infiltrated the computer system?” Broots half asked, half suggested.

That possibility temporarily halted Miss Parker’s tirade. The idea of Jarod running loose through the Centre’s database actually gave her the shivers. Who knew that damage the labrat could and probably would do while scanning the Centre’s inner most secrets. And, of course, Raines would hold her personally responsible for the whole mess. She could almost see her life passing before her eyes. She looked down at Broots.

“Find out. Quickly.”










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