Seattle, Washington

"Hey."

Kathleen Davis continued to scratch her scratch ticket as she glanced at a customer from the side calling to her. "I'm the cook, you need to order first." Typical. Cashier was out. Not her concern. She continued to scratch the ticket. Big money. Momma wants out of here. Life of luxury. Gucci. Prada. Penthouse maybe? Yeah right. Alright a fifty for a new outfit, come on fate. Give me something good 'cause I feel like shit today. Worse. Ever since she left the Ice Cream truck to come to work, she had felt less of herself. More, depressed. She felt like someone close to her had just died. She heard a cash register. Oh good, the cashier came back. 

No chance of a fifty. She could still make a 25. If she could just get one more match, she could get 25 bucks. Damn. 

"You're obsessive today," the Cashier Broots said as he came back. Of course he chose her to focus on before the griping customer. "You okay, Kath?"

"Yeah." Strange. She was obsessed. "I just. I haven't been feeling good lately. At all." In fact, she'd felt more miserable in what felt like the minute. "Hey, Broots?"

"Shawn," he answered. "You really aren't feeling okay. You're in a corner trying to scratch tickets?"

"Ticket, I can only splurge on one. Money makes me feel better." Sure it sounded hollow, but it was true. "I can't explain it. I feel like shit today." She wiped her eyes and showed her ticket. "Twenty five. Lucky me." Did somebody slip her something? Nah, when would someone have the chance to? Why did she feel like she was rotting in hell? "I feel like I piled up 9,000 dollars of debt in a week again."

"Ooh. You were a gambler?" Shawn asked her. "I didn't peg you for it."

"Oh no, not me. Before my accidents that changed my life," she said, "I used to work with this terrible guy named Cuyler. Man was a freaking genius, but he was an idiot. The guy literally borrowed money for fun and got into trouble just to make his life exciting. I swear, I wanted to shoot him so bad." It was nice talking about him in the past tense, like he didn't already find her again. "One day I am checking my account and it is 9,000 dollars overdrawn."

"Damn," Shawn said. "Anything your bank did?"

"No, no. They swore it was me. I mention this guy was a genius? Nope, 9000 in debt. I found him the next day and tried to choke him. Plague." If she had his smarts, she'd never be that stupid. She would have moved up in the world. Cuyler's personality would never change. "Everything canceled, overdrawn, and I couldn't make rent. He tried to deny it and invited me to stay with him. But that feeling?" Hopelessness. Tragic. She sniffed, but not very loud. "I can't explain it."

"Maybe someone you know just died?" Shawn recommended. "I mean, some people are more in tune, like have a sixth sense. Have you tried calling your folks to see if they are okay?"

Oh. Like she wasn't feeling worse enough. "I don't have any," she said. "My mom died. My dad was barely around anyhow and I hated his guts. If he had died, I'd be cheering, not feeling like this." Words were strong, that was it. What was she feeling? She sheltered her eyes again. She grew up tough, and she knew how to handle her sorrow. There was something more though.

“Your mom isn’t dead, Kath,” Shawn answered.

“Not dead. Right. Yeah, she’s not.” Why did she say she had been?

"You know, maybe you should leave the night to me?" Shawn recommended. "You honestly look like shit right now, Kathleen."

"Yeah." She found herself almost drunkenly on the bare ground now. Shawn bent down to see her better. "My body aches." Not like the flu. So many parts of her hurt right now.

But, her senses kicked in when she saw her co-worker's smile get marred by a bullet as he got back up from comforting her. No, not his smile. His head. Someone shot him dead.

Instinct kicked in and she grabbed a piece of wood siding from the cupboard's cover. While the shooter aimed at her, she threw it at the gun. It was torn apart, but gave her the chance to get into the back. She could feel the pursuit and locked the back door.

The door was getting riddled with holes. I need a weapon. Where? She wanted to keep reaching for a gun on her side, but she didn't carry a gun at work. She went to the breakout room's fridge and opened it up. Shawn always brought things in, after hours. There. She grabbed a single malt bottle by the top and smashed it. Splintered glass flew everywhere but she now had a shank. Which still couldn't beat a gun. She moved behind where the bullet-ridden holed door would be thrusted open soon, just a little farther from it. If she could catch them by surprise.

Instead, she heard commotion outside. Fighting. Someone else was fighting whoever was after her. Good, that gave her enough time to try something else. There was a small window in the break room. Not large. No guarantee. She went for it and squeezed through. Tight fit but adrenaline helped. She started to run down the street, looking for help. Randomly yelling help to people wouldn't do any good though. No one cared about help, fire would work better. "Fire!" She yelled. "Dimple's Diner is on fire!" Meanwhile, while some people were heading that way, she had no idea who that gunner had been. She just really wanted to find a weapon of her own.

Then, she heard more fire ring out into the air. Someone was still after her? She opened the door to a shop she knew. "Mikey!" She yelled. She'd learned from experience it wasn't just the size of the paycheck, it was where she worked too. "I need a gun, someone's after me!" She reached the service desk. "If you don't give me it, someone's going to come in here shooting!" Mikey popped up from behind the counter with his own gun. "Give me one."

"No."

Shit! She would have to rely on him. She hid behind his counter. At least there were guns around her now. "That thing better be loaded. They are shooting to kill."

"Man, Kathleen, why are you the only one who gets yourself into these things?" He criticized her. "You got an old debt again? You sleep with some psycho's boyfriend? Why you gotta drudge this mess up on me?"

"I asked for a gun, not a lecture." Still, she knew which gun she wanted if it came down to it. "How's the wife and kids? I heard Ryan's going out for baseball this summer?" Normally, Kathleen didn't give much of a care about people and their own personal agendas but when it came to friends with resources? She always kept their personal business close to her mind, if not her heart. "When's the first match, I'll be sure to be there."

"I think tryouts are in April. I don't see anyone coming. I set up the security too and I auto-locked the doors. This place is sealed. Anyone hits it and the cops will come fast."

"Good to know." Much better place to work. Too bad he wasn't hiring.

"I think it's fine now, Kath. What was that all about?" He asked as she came from behind the service area.

"I don't know. I need a gun. You know my background, just give me one. I'm good for it." If only she had brought one of her guns to work. They would have pitched a fit though, no one needed to carry at a small diner. "Mikey?"

"I'll drive ya home safely."

"Thanks, yeah, so much better." Can't just break the law for her, could he? Fine, she wouldn't complain. As long as someone had firepower until she got home, then she could get her own.

As they started to drive away, the radio came on.

"The targets all have similar features. Most were aesthetically pleasing with-" Mikey turned off the radio. He drove one of those models that always had the radio come on. "You still live on Chester?"

"Yes, I still live on Chester." He just had to drag that up, didn't he?

"You know if you could stop getting yourself into this kind of trouble, I'd let you make friends with my wife," he teased her. "Except I wouldn't feel comfortable with her visiting your neighborhood. Boy, trouble. It likes to follow you, doesn't it?"

Kathleen exhaled. "It wasn't my fault last time. Cuyler gave them my name and number for his debts. His collection agencies weren't just a nice phone call." He was mad about the thrashing she gave him for the 9,000. So what did he do? Put her in as his co-loaner on dangerous loans. Screw that guy.

"At least you don't have to work with him anymore," Mikey said to her as he dropped her off. "You be careful. Call the cops."

Sure. "After I get my gun ready." She wasn't a quick truster of authority. If someone wanted to kill someone, they would want to kill someone. While it might deter them, it didn't take care of the problem for those brave enough to start shooting in public. "Thanks for the ride." She waved goodbye. "Shoot." Now she had to go to a kids' baseball game.

She still felt like shit too but she made it to her apartment. She went to her gun safe and grabbed her favorite. It always fit just right in her hand. She didn't need a shot gun, just a real good aim with something fit for her fingers. She slid her holster on and slid it on. It always felt like she should always carry it. It was the only damn thing she could thank her father for, the training. "I should have became a police woman, but with my record?" Whatever. The place was just going to have to get used to her wearing it until it was safe.

Then, she heard a knock on the door. Normally, shooters didn't do that, but never assume. She moved to the side of the door and looked in the peephole. Cuyler?! Screw that guy, what was he doing there? Miserable piece of nothing ruined her life!

Although? He didn't look half as terrible as usual. His hair had been combed. His clothes were decent. Expensive, actually. Fashionable. Maybe he was dressing for a girlfriend. Maybe he was trying to put on a good show because he was the reason someone was probably shooting at her?

Yeah probably the second one. One of his pranks gone wrong.

"Kathleen Davis?" His accent sounded different. He knocked with more urgency. "Please tell me you are in there?" Panicked. Cuyler never sounded panicked. What did he get her into now? "Please?"

No, not panicked. Pleading? He better be worth it and get me out of this mess. "What do you want, Cuyler?! What did you just pull me into?"

"Please, just open the door," he pleaded. "I'll explain."

Dunce. Jerk. Yet never once had Cuyler physically hurt her though himself, he just liked to make her life miserable. She unbolted the door and opened it up.

Wow, she called it right. He actually did look a little more rugged than she thought, like he'd been kicking up dirt on himself, but he definitely looked put together.

Yet, that didn't last long as she heard shooting again. She held her gun ready, but watched as Cuyler had his own gun ready. Oh great, he did pull her into something. Absolutely confirmed.

Cuyler shot at the direction first. "Follow me to the car!"

"What?" She ran after him. "I'm not driving with you!" More shots rang out above her. "Fine, then I'm driving!"

She followed him outside but they were running toward a different car? Way more tasteful than his usual car. He was already moving in the driver's seat and he never gave her the keys. "Damn it." Well? "You better not make me regret this." She slid into the passenger seat and Cuyler took off quickly. He was literally breaking the law and moving into fast speeds, even after the whole shoot out. That's when she noticed where the beverages would be in such a fancy car. In there, he had multiple identity tags. 

A surgeon. A police officer. He even had a different first name. A familiar name that kept ringing in her head all day. She even called one of the kids it earlier before she had to leave the Ice Cream truck for extra work at the diner. "Jarod."

She glanced at him again. Her head felt so dizzy. No way. There was no way this man was that incompetent piece of work. They looked the same, but he wasn't him. "Who are you . . . Jarod?"

—--------------------------

He did it. Jarod swallowed as he now worked on escaping the city. He did it. Kathleen Davis. He still felt shaken up. She wanted to talk. She clearly knew someone that must have been a clone. He'd give her something for that. "Cuyler is my twin." Close enough. "He got me into trouble too. I knew I needed to get you as well, you'd be facing the same problem." Absolute lie, but if it kept her steady for now, it was worth it. The Centre was moving too fast, they clearly hired people who already knew where they all were to get rid of them. They were being taken out in surprise. There was no kidnapping, it was straight out assassinations of every one.

Since each were in their everyday lives, they hadn’t been able to tap the shared knowledge to get away. Jarod had kept trying, but he had a feeling in the end, they wouldn’t get very many.

"Oh." She seemed to relax but she still kept her gun close. "Do anything and I'll shoot you,” she said right before she seemed to fall unconscious.

It felt so good to hear her say that. She seemed a lot more like Miss Parker. After all the tragedy, a threat from a piece of her felt good. He reached for his phone and called Major Charles. "Got one called Kathleen Davis.  Well?"

"We got one too called Clarice. We only got one," Major Charles said. "We couldn't have done it if Gemini didn't insist on getting close. Her parents were killed right in front of her though. She's about Gemini’s age."

Jarod could hear crying in the background of the phone. Probably unconsolable right now. He knew how she felt. He missed two Parkers, and barely missed saving a third. It was like time repeating, watching someone he loved dying all over again. He had watched the information Broot sent to keep him informed. In such a short time, he had to keep changing directions because the one he tried to get to was already a confirmed kill or taken into police protection.

And the woman sitting right next to him, was the first one he managed to save. There were more he could try for, but he needed to take care of her first.

There was only one thing left to do now. Get out of that city. Get her to safety.

—------------------------------------------------

"Her hysteria is getting worse again," Gemini said as he tried to comfort Clarice, the small clone of Miss Parker.

"Jarod said he'd light the flame when he got one," Major Charles reminded him. "He'd try and help her remember. It's probably affecting her." He was comparing more names on the list among the names of the dead they had so far.

Technology. It made things easy and hard, seeing the updates in real time. There went another one.

"Anyone else?" Major Charles asked. "We could try and help anyone."

"Nowhere near us." If it hadn't been for the fact they all looked alike, no one would have noticed the difference. The lucky ones were mostly in police protection now. The only good thing about it all? The Centre would have to lay low and not do anything for awhile. 

For now, unless anything changed. Clarice. Kathleen Davis. The first one Jarod found. Out of a connected connection of 234 Miss Parkers, they were the only ones they could save. 64 had found police protection. The rest had been confirmed killed.

There were bound to be repercussions.

—-------------------------------------

Jarod heard his phone again and waited.

"Jarod."

Oh. There was only one person who had that number, that sounded just like that. "Rene."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I forgot you," she apologized. "I can't . . . explain it. I wish I could. I know you probably feel confused and maybe betrayed. I never meant to hurt you. I am still Miss Parker, I didn't lie. I'm just . . ."

"Someone else too."

"I have two sets of . . . I am me, which is still Miss Parker. I'm. I am all over the place, I'm sorry. Look? Just, take care of whatever me’s you find. Okay? I am still sorry."

"For what?" He quipped. "You weren't responsible, you didn't know." He just wanted to get off the phone. He could already feel such a difference between her and ‘Miss Parker’.

"I love my husband, but a part of me, I can't fully turn off will care for you too. It's part of who I am." She almost sounded like she was choking. "It's not easy. Running two lives. There's a woman, Maggie. She had partly connected me as best she could. She wanted this. For me to get the kids out. For us to meet. The whole bloody mess, it was all planned. You knew that though, probably. I just . . . I hope one day you really understand." Falling apart. "My memories? I can't hold onto them all. We were all one. So many. Memories. Lost." She hung up.

Jarod hung up too, but he rubbed his eyes, feeling the sting. She was Miss Parker. 

The last few hours. Such hell. He knew he couldn’t save all 234. He had a feeling it probably wouldn't even be a hundred. He was hoping with his dad's help at the very least he could save twenty.

Calculated. Cold. Fast assassination. The police protection would cause a delay, but eventually it would all start back up again when they were released. He looked back at the last update.

3 saved.

44 police protection.

40 unknown.

127 killed.

Jarod waited with the unconscious Kathleen Davis, hoping there would be something more.

Anything more.

Nothing though. No extra calls.

The Centre

"Final score?" Mister Raines looked at it. The list had almost been done. "Interesting. Three got away. Police protection because of press, only 44. Temporary. Technically still still winning." Technically, she was even still alive. That? Well, it pleased him. He knew if anyone could make it out, it would be that particular Miss Parker.

Whether Miss Parker was dead or not, it was going to be a battle to see. He’d be waiting for that call.

—-------------------------------------

Kathleen started to wake up and glared at Jarod as they bumped along in his car out of the city. Her memories were starting to come back. "Brats. Oh my gaw." Ew. "Six months? Hire a babysitter, that would have been smarter.”

"It just happens, doesn't it?" Jarod questioned her. The guy sounded angry at her? "No consent. No real transfer kind of permission. You just remember everything." He squeezed the wheel tighter, like he was suddenly pissed off at her. "You know everything Rene knows, don't you?"

"The hell is Rene?" she complained. Ooh, something rattled her brain viciously. I was a clone. She understood it now. She didn't know where that understanding came from, just that it was there. A whole bank of new memories, and now she knew why. Still? It was a lot to accept. "I'm a clone."

"You're a clone," Jarod agreed. Well, that couldn't have been more confirmed. "The whole explanation, anything Rene heard from Catherine, you know. Right?"

Geez! "Could you tone the hatred down?"

"It's not for you." Huh. The way he said that. "It's not for you, it's never for you." He glanced toward her."I am privileged to even be here with you."

Oh. That look said it all. He was mad about something else. Very. Strange. "I feel like . . . a lost puzzle piece to a gigantic puzzle." Not whole. "Jagged." Very jagged. . .

"It's a finished puzzle, placed right on the bottom of an unfinished puzzle, with the missing pieces shining through the bottom." Jarod explained it succinctly. "I know."

"There is a lot shining through." Why did that scare her? A lot of the things she saw, it wasn’t her.

"Because." Jarod hesitated. "You are 127 memories short of who you were before." He held onto the wheel. “Or, according to Catherine, it might have all snapped if two specific Miss Parkers were killed.”

Hm. "Why do you look so much like the guy I hate?" she questioned him. "I'm serious, you look just like him."

"This Cuyler you spoke of is probably a clone. Something close to it at least," Jarod said. "Maybe a chimera. I was cloned too."

Really? "Are you a clone?"

"No, I'm the original. Not that I'm any better." He was clearly not wanting to hurt her feelings about being a clone. "Your mom is not your mom."

"I know. I." She could see it, that piece felt filled. She could see her, a vision of her. In front of Jarod and someone else, a short distance away. Too scared to get involved. Hearing terrible things, things she didn't want to know. Coming out with her beautiful voice. But it was more than that, she felt more than her. More than one. "She's not one." Still. "She took care of me though. Us though." Her mind was so corrupted. “Images, in and out of different lives."

"I can understand why. They understood you even better than you knew yourself," Jarod answered. "Can you give me a rundown of what you remember from The Centre? Not the secrets. Something familiar."

Hm. Centre. Weird word. Important word. She didn’t know what the importance of the word had been. 

“Miss Parker?”

The hell was Miss Parker? “I don’t know anyplace named Centre or Miss Parker.  I feel crazy.”

“No. You are probably synching up into the last of the Miss Parkers,” he said.

You know what, Kathleen? Forget it. He’s probably crazy too.

"All of the clones that were out here before, had separate lives too," Jarod said, like he knew what she was thinking about. "You see yourself here, and you see yourself elsewhere." Not even recognizing the difference between her memories and this Rene he talked about. "Everything falls into place when you pick up on 'Miss Parker'. There is a woman though," Jarod said slowly. "Maggie. She must be in tune with you, being relation, yet not actually you. Designed to be almost like a control switch. I think she's been feeding you the wrong memories, to mess you up in front of The Centre."

"Someone else has control of me." She wasn't just a clone, someone controlled her thoughts too. Her thoughts felt screwy. 

“Do you have family? A husband or children that might be potential victims The Centre could use to get you back?” Jarod asked.

Eh? "I couldn't even hold down a decent job, how the hell would I have any of that crap?" That seemed to make him smile. Weirdo.

"Can you tell me any of the details you remember on chasing me?" Jarod asked.

Hm?

"I guess you weren’t at The Centre." He looked back toward her. "It doesn’t matter. I'll keep you safe."

She felt like almost gagging. Someone keep her safe? "I want to meet Maggie. I see her." She knew her. She felt her. She was different than the other sides of . . . her that she was seeing..

"Oh no," Jarod said. "You don't want to play nice."

"Like hell I want to play nice, I'm going to kill her." She shook her head. “I mean hurt her.” Like she knew how to kill? Weird word to use. Still. She was responsible somehow, she knew it! I feel it, I felt it! I- their screaming it.

"Kathleen," Jarod said calmly. "She's dealt with The Centre's experimentation all of her life. Been given kids that she never should have been given. I know when that Catherine said it, I was mad too. She's probably disturbed."

"So it gives her the damn right to kill a bunch of people?!" Gaw! “I can't even grieve for those I hear because I don’t or can’t remember them!” Yet, there was so much missing inside of her. “I . . . don’t remember. A lot of things.”

"We're rescuing all of the pretender kids, before they start doing anything else. The Centre will have to keep its head down, if anyone gives their name away to the authorities, people will be looking into them," Jarod explained. "We can't let them begin this all over again."

Uh? That has nothing to do with me. The guy was using her as a soundboard. He must have liked talking to himself to figure things out. She had no idea what a pretender kid was or what this centre place had been. She leaned her head back on the seat. "Your acting like I'm really going to go with you." There was no way. "Forget it."

"Kathleen Davis, I am going to take you to someone important."

Yeah she thought so. He didn’t even know her, he was just talking out loud about whatever his own goals had been. This is not the guy with my best interests in mind. I just needed the lift out. "Drop me off anywhere."

"Your mother's waiting for you." He said that, knowingly.

Mother. He wasn’t talking about her mom that raised her, he was talking about someone else. A different face in her visions. She almost felt like crying, she couldn’t explain it. Blast it, don’t get emotional. You don’t even know who he’s talking about. A kind smile. Strange memories with that kind smile. “Ever play video games, Jarod?”

“I dabble,” he said. “Why?”

“Ever get real involved as a kid in a video game, and you feel like you're the one that’s actually doing the adventure? Instead of just some kid pushing buttons? I kind of feel like that right now.”

He just made a strange noise and then sighed. “Video games as a kid. I can’t . . .You really don’t even know what a Pretender is.” He seemed saddened by her words.”I need to get you to a woman named Catherine. She can probably help you.” He seemed to pick up speed again. "I am having a deep conversation with her too. She's going to tell me what I want before she disappears again. I want to know about all of you clones, about Maggie, and most importantly?"

Huh? "What?"

"Your mom knows my mom. I will never forget that,” Jarod said.

Oh. Okay. Well, at least she could see why he was in this picture.

The Centre

Broots heart raced. Looking back, making sure no one was coming, and trying to double check all the original names. He had used his tablet to keep up with all the information he copied, but he had been in a hurry to get the original information. "Okay." He tried to keep his heart out of the equation, there was only one thing he could do. Check everything. No one is that perfect. Missing even one name wasn’t an option.

After getting an actual print out this time, he left to his car. He compared it to the digital one that he had given out. While he was doing that, he was double checking the database too, to see if they were still alive. "There." He checked the name against the database. "Got one." Just one left. She wasn’t located by any kind of police, nor was her body found yet.

He dialed up Sydney as fast as he could.