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Two Months Later . . .

 

“Broots?” Sydney watched him show up for work again. Every day he looked more horrible. “Are you sleeping enough?”

“You ask that every day, Sydney,” Broots said. “Like I say, every day, yes.”

“Have you been checked out by a doctor recently?” Sydney asked him. “Perhaps I could squeeze in a quick session with you?” It was what he said every day, but Sydney was becoming concerned. The first thing he looked into was Debbie, but her health stayed on track and he couldn’t find any sign that anyone was trailing her. It couldn’t be his daughter. There was something bothering Broots, something he refused to share with Sydney. “There is an interception today with email. Do you want to write another email to see if Jarod falls for it?” He wouldn’t, Jarod was too smart, but Sydney had to always donate something in the pursuit of catching Jarod or he wouldn’t be a part of it anymore.

“Yeah.” Broots scratched his unkempt hair. It was clear he hadn’t done anything with it. He had changed his shirt, but not his pants, and that was only because he was grilled for looking unkempt.

“You haven’t taken care of yourself,” Sydney warned him. “Hygienically.”

“Oh. Yeah. I will.”

“You know, not taking care of yourself can usually be attributed to-“

“Fine, Sydney, just busy, just busy.”

“Is The Centre becoming too much for you, Broots?”

“No!” Broots declared. “No, I-I love The Centre. I’ll never stop working here if I can help it. No I eat, live, and dream to catch Jarod. It gives me purpose.” He stood out of his chair. “I’ll um, go and take care of myself. I’ll be right back.”

The nervous state he was in. Constant. Sydney was becoming quite worried. He discussed him with Jarod a time or two over the months, but nothing came of it. Sydney couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Jarod wasn’t going to come back so close to The Centre just to investigate ‘nervousness’. He had much more important things to do out there and Sydney understood that.

Before Jarod, Sydney tried to talk to Miss Parker, but he never managed to keep her on for more than a few minutes. She was always working or close to a clue about her mother. When he tried to ask her about something, she seemed to fall into a daydream like state and talk about her mother or something that happened in the past. He had warned her several times that too much nostalgia was a dangerous thing, yet she did it anyway.

Normally, Sydney stayed out of affairs, or at least didn’t explore them widely, but this had gone on too far. Broots’ mental health was at risk. He went over toward Broots’ computer.

Broots had been coming in with a small yellow package. Nothing big, normally something no one would notice. But Sydney did as he saw it repeatedly. It was every Monday morning, and the package had the same kind of bulge every time with no label.

Today Broots was so off, that he forgot his package. Sydney reached for it, knowing what he would do was wrong, but not seeing another option, proceeded. He opened it.

There was no paper inside. A simple bottle of pills, and no doctor’s instructions labeled on them. It didn’t even say what they were. Broots is taking drugs? Was his paranoia and nervousness because he was taking something he shouldn’t be?

“No, don’t!” Broots ran back toward his computer and grabbed the pills. “Don’t mess with that.”

“Broots,” Sydney said seriously. “My friend, you have a problem. You should not be taking those. Personal problems solved with drugs do not go away.”

 “What, you mean like, a junkie?” Broots said. “No. No, it’s not like that.”

As Lyle started to come into the room, Broots ran over to him, almost like for a cover. “Lyle, Sydney found those pills we discussed about?”

“Oh.” Lyle just chuckled at Sydney, like he knew the real reason, but planned on talking down to him. “Those are Centre issued drugs, don’t worry about them. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Sydney asked. “Since when is giving non-labeled drugs to employees no big deal?” He was sure of it. That was what was wrong with Broots.

“Since I said it’s no big deal,” Lyle said with a warning tone. “Don’t bother Broots about it. It enhances his performance.”

“I have seen nothing enhanced in his performance, I have only seen it weakened more every day.”

“Well, I say that it enhances it, and Broots will continue having the pills. So back off, Sydney. They are . . . vitamin pills,” he smiled. “The Centre picks up the tab.”

Liar. He wasn’t even trying for a better excuse. “Why does the Centre want Broots hooked on something?” He looked toward Broots, but he wasn’t meeting his eyes at all. Drugs were addictive. Was the Centre trying to make him do something he didn’t want to, so they got him hooked so he couldn’t refuse?

Well. Now Sydney had something new to add to his next conversation with Jarod.

 

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South Africa

 

Miss Parker rolled her eyes as she continued to hear the bickering outside of her cell.

“We need the mother to be on wheatgrass. It will be better and an easier transition for it.”

“There is no need for a transition. It feeds through the umbilical cord. There is no taste differentiation.”

“At The Centre in America, they have wheatgrass for their pregnant subjects.”

“The mother is not raised on wheatgrass. To completely change her diet will stress her out. We are not The Centre. Our priority is to keep her unstressed. An ulcer almost killed her once, we should not risk it.”

Her diet. Great. Miss Parker stood up. Hey, let’s not ask the monkey what it wants. She still couldn’t talk unless spoken to by the Triumvirate or by Lyle. Special cases. She wouldn’t want them to see how much she raged on the inside anyhow. They’d probably do even more things to her.

“We could get her a psychiatrist? Someone to talk to about her problems?”

Someone say Sydney, I dare someone to say Sydney. It’d be funny if someone said it. He was one of the top psychiatrists in The Centre, not to mention the one who raised Jarod. How they would keep her from being able to spill important information would be some kind of magic trick she’d pay for tickets to see.

“I think a local psychiatrist that understands the meaning to her being in there would work.”

Sure because she was going to pour her heart into someone like that? She just crawled on her bed again.

Poof. That little poofy belly whenever she looked down at herself. I can’t believe I’m still in here. A part of her was sure that something would have happened. Something always happens with Jarod, he always figured out any secret someone was hiding from him. Then again, it was only when he was outside the Centre that he made any progress. In The Centre itself, he had access to nothing.

He was still out there though. Why isn’t that Houdini doing something? Because Broots was protecting Debbie. She didn’t expect Broots to let it go, but come on, Sydney hadn’t seen anything so far? Broots with this on his conscious? Even if he doesn’t know I’m pregnant in here, the fact he knows I’m in here, it’s gotta be weighing down on him. Sydney should know this. Surely even if Sydney couldn’t hear him, he’d investigate Debbie, find the pills, and then get that Genius ass on the phone to spy or something! Although. Sydney’s too damn respectful to snoop that much. He’ll have to be at wit’s end before he might go far enough to find the truth. Damn that personality, I’d have butted my rear end into everything, and found all of this out by now.

She was beyond the point of her pride caring whether she found a way to bust out or Jarod swung to her rescue. She’d been in there six months and a week already. Of that, she’d been pregnant somewhere in the vicinity of five months. About four more months, she’d pop, and her baby would be taken away. She stood up again, slower. She wasn’t used to slow. She hated slow. Her life was fast and so was her movement. It should have been that way.

Instead, she was watching as they discussed whether she could have wheatgrass, real food, or a psychiatrist. And it was far because they cared, it was about her health. To make sure she had the perfect, healthy baby. Then she heard the name again they used to address the baby.

Baby Jarod. Why were they so hell-bent on having it named after Jarod? Like there aren’t enough reminders. She isn’t even a boy. The doctors already told her that. She wasn’t going to have a girl named Jarod. Maybe it was a girl’s name too, but she couldn’t picture it. Then again, what would she name her? A little her. Family tradition said that everyone would call her Miss Parker. But, damned if she wasn’t a little tired of the whole family thing. Maybe I should name her after mother instead. Her name was so much prettier. The best mother in the world, no one could ever convince Miss Parker differently about that.

But now, Miss Parker was the mother. While she thought about that, she heard something else. Something new. Something she probably wasn’t supposed to hear.

“When Baby Jarod is born, we will start him on wheatgrass as soon as we can. The girl, we can-“

Miss Parker watched as one of them smacked the one talking. Twins? That’s why they were calling it Baby Jarod. They were talking about a boy. “I’m having twins?” She moved toward the glass. “Why have you been keeping that from me?” No one answered. “Let me guess. Let me, let me just guess,” she seethed. “I seem to remember that when I was born I had a stillborn brother. You are going to send them in different directions.”

“One. Will be The Centre property in the new Pretender Program, or as an experiment if he doesn’t inherit the abilities of his father. You will not know of him. The other. Will take its future place at the Centre,” one of them revealed. “You will have healthier children outside of this cell. You will still do your job, but raise your girl the way you were raised, and continue the treatments. We will make sure you have a wonderful boyfriend so you will not suspect a thing for round two.” He stopped to look at his paper. “For . . . the subject Angelo’s children.”

“Ooh. Future Centre approved? Lyle’s Centre approved?” She hissed. “You were going to make me forget about one, and raise the other, in the Centre, like nothing ever happened?!”

“Not were. We are. Our mind memory techniques have been improved over the years. We just didn’t want this knowledge to stress you out.”

“Should we take her in then?”

“No, we shouldn’t do that with her pregnant. We will upgrade her comforts and hope it evens out the stress we just caused.”

Two. Two?! Just like mom. Again. She was raised in the Centre. Lyle was raised . . . to become the thing he was. She looked toward her stomach again. I knew this poof was bigger than it should be. My Parker baby bump. She spoke to herself sadly. Please. Sydney. Jarod. Someone. Anyone. She tried to concentrate on the good again.

She saw her little self right next to her on the bed, gently kicking her feet back and forth.

“Your little boy is going into the Centre, taking the place of Jarod,” she said, “and your little girl will be raised in the Centre, to be the next generation to keep the Parker family curse going.” She gazed over at Miss Parker. “If your son escapes, your own daughter will be chasing him down.”

“I know!” She covered her eyes. No one’s coming. It’s been this long, no one is coming. “I’m horrible. Stuck in a cell, twins, taken to the . . .” She took a deep breath. “History. Repeating. Never ending sorrow. How . . .”

“Now you’re not.”

“What?” Miss Parker looked at her younger self.

“Now you’re not horrible because you understand it now. You had to understand it, in the most wicked of ways,” her little self said softly. “Even if they get more than wheatgrass to eat. Your boy or your girl. The one thing neither of them will ever be is-“

“Free,” she finished. “What do I do?”

“You can’t do anything,” Little Miss Parker said. “You’re stuck in a cell. But, if Jarod does know, and he’s got the unending kind heart you know that he has? Then he’ll rescue you and your kids will be safe. But you are going to have to do something for him.”

“He’ll want to see them.”

“Duh, he’ll want them, Silly. So you’ll have to stay with him too. Willingly. It isn’t his fault this happened.”

“I know that,” Miss Parker said. “It’s Lyle’s.”

“Well, if you had gone with Jarod back when he wanted you too-“

“He just wanted me to help him escape.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” her younger self said. “If he doesn’t come soon, I’ll never know.”

I’ll?

“Of course,” Little Miss Parker said. “I mean, come on. Do you think your cute little kid self knows about all this stuff I’ve been discussing? I’m you,” she said. “I’m just the visual part of you that you think is still good. And for some reason, you think the good you apparently had ended after childhood.”

“That’s because I had to get strong. Stay strong to survive,” Miss Parker said. “I changed for The Centre. I changed for it all.”

“Well. I’ll tell you a little secret Miss Parker. A little secret that you never wanted anyone else to know. That only we know, but after growing up, you might have forgotten.” She crept up closer to her older self and whispered in her ear. “I’m an excellent pretender too because . . . I never changed.”

Then, Little Miss Parker was gone.

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Jarod stretched and reached for his phone. He just finished helping someone and now he was in a transition stage, learning the techniques and studies needed to help the next one he wanted to help.

He didn’t unpack any of his simple belongings yet. He never kept much, but anything that he got from his family that he could keep hold of, he kept with him. He should rest up early for tomorrow, but he would check in and talk to Sydney. He tried not to do it that often. One of the most difficult things from leaving the Centre, actually about the only hard thing about leaving the Centre, was getting used to not talking to Sydney every day. But, it was good for him. Sydney wasn’t his father after all. Just the one watching him, and taking care of him. Sydney only contacted him for emergencies and he would only call when he either needed something, or wanted to check how things were going in the Centre.

Sydney though, sent him an email asking him to call him. Which meant it was something he shouldn’t put on hold.

“This is Sydney.”

“Sydney.”

“Jarod. I have something odd to tell you. Broots has been taking unmarked pills, and getting them from The Centre every Monday.”

“Unmarked from The Centre?” Jarod asked. “Why? Are they making him a junkie for some reason? Are they making him do something he doesn’t want?” Making Broots a junkie. Never knew what to expect from the Centre. “Hook someone and they’ll do anything for a fix.” What were they demanding of him?

“I looked into it because I thought that at first. I tried to call Miss Parker about it. I know she has been hell-bent on her mother and barely answers the phone, but this was Broots’ health. A friend. She turned me away, saying Lyle knew what was best.”

Jarod’s eyes grew wider. “Okay, that is a new one. Miss Parker didn’t care?” He thought back to when Sydney asked him about checking on Miss Parker, believing her to be a possible fake. “That is Miss Parker? Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. No one quite has that attitude she does,” Sydney said. “That day I warned you was just a bad connection. Her phone is much better, but she still refuses to talk long. I dread what they are making her do up there sometimes.” He sighed. “Anyhow, today while Broots was out, I called his daughter Debbie after school. I’ve checked into everything else so I wanted to ask his daughter about it. She has been trained to talk to me or Miss Parker in an emergency.”

“Okay. What did you find out?”

“That the medication wasn’t for Broots, he was giving it to Debbie.”

Jarod sat up. This just took a turn he couldn’t ignore. Broots being hooked on drugs from the Centre was bad, but the lives of children involved? “The Centre is getting that to his daughter through Broots? Why?”

“I don’t know, but when he saw I had them, I swore a junkie was the first thing I thought. His eyes, they were scared I’d take them away.”

“He can’t just give her something from The Centre,” Jarod said firmly. “He should know better!”

“Broots won’t talk to me about it, Jarod. Lyle forbids me for messing around with it. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I know what to do,” Jarod said. He’d put his own plan on hold for now. The Centre and kids. The life of a child. They weren’t going to be giving something to help her. “I’ll check it out, Sydney. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

 

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