| Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to a real person,living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintended by the author. "The Pretender" is a protected trademark. Any other characters is trademarked by the author. by Whashaza Rescue Undisclosed vicinity She was dreaming and she was
aware that she was dreaming. Her dreams were becoming her reality, the only way
to keep her thoughts closed to the hidden camera she had spotted in the
ceiling. In her dreams her mother came, sometimes to give advice, sometimes to
just hold her. She would also imagine his hands
holding her; she would imagine another outcome to that time at Ocee’s. She would dream of coming closer, the
distance between her and Jarod shrinking until she touched his lips in a kiss
so chaste it reminded her of her innocence and their shared kiss in the lab.
Her dream would then stray to their moment in the Centre’s limo, his
hands reaching towards her pleading for a turning point. But this time she
would hold on to his, and not slip them out of his grasp. Her actions would be different
each time she dreamt, but the ending always turned out to be the same. The
dream would evolve into a nightmare that always returned to the same recycled
words. She kept turning away from him, telling him that he needed to forget her
moment of weakness and pulling her hands from his grip. Digging deeper into her
buried memories, she would know that this is a dream; that in reality Jarod
would always be her constant, her compass. She wanted to hold on to that
elusive glimmer of hope, to take the courage to love again. However, the doors
always slammed shut around her heart with the key disappearing into the
distance and a hand closing around it. She would follow the key to the hand,
her eyes moving past the wrist, to the elbow towards the shoulder and neck.
Following the throbbing main artery, ever upwards, she could see the face of
the one who held the key. And this was to be the true realisation
of her nightmare. The face that looked back at her was none other then her own. But this is a dream and in
dreams, reality is your own fears realised. ************ The Centre J was staring at his hands.
Turning them left, and then right, he took in his the blue crisscross of
arteries, his fingernails jagged and broken, his palms grazed. His gaze re-centred on the bars that held him in place and the
unblinking eye of the camera. Slowly, aware that every move was recorded, he
pulled the blanket around his shoulders, his face turning away from the
intrusive black iris. Fully hidden underneath the coarse material, he allowed
the sobs to come. ************ Thirty miles
outside Blue Cove Jarod sat between Lyle and
Willie. Leaning his head back, he allowed the turn of the wheels to drift him
towards sleep. He was emotionally tired; the added stress of J’s capture
and the uncertainty regarding his father’s fate taking its toll. He had
asked Lyle about his father and had only received a sinister smile, increasing
the feeling of dread, his brain working overtime on possible reasons for the
smile. His escape plans now discarded, he had yet to see a way out for both him
and J. At least Miss Parker would be rescued, though why Lyle wanted to be one
to do it was a mystery. His hands were cuffed in front,
his clothes changed to black jeans, T-shirt and brown jacket. They had given
him a brace for his leg; it sat tight around his lower leg, bringing some
relief from the pain. There was nothing more to do than wait until they entered
************ Safe House
– 21: 00 He watched from a distance as the
lights went out in the top room. His focus moved down towards the left window,
the curtains partially drawn but enough for him to see the room’s
interior. Seated on one of the couches was the daughter with paper strewn
around her. The paramedic entered his sight, talking to the girl before moving
off again. A small smile settled when Major Charles and his wife moved in view,
seating themselves in the other couch. The Major
stretched forward, his hand coming back into view - the Glock
17 firmly held in it. Reassured by checking the clip and chambering the first
round, he holstered the gun. His wife said something, to which the Major
replied. Giving her a small kiss, he stood. Checking his watch, the other two
rose from their seats. He watched them move from his
sight. The front door opened, light spilling outward onto the porch. He saw the
tearful goodbye before the Major and paramedic moved off. The car drove past
his position, his smile widening ever so slightly at the thought of the two
women left behind, alone. ************ The Centre
– Monitor room Broots entered the room, checking
its occupants before proceeding. His eyes traced across the multitude of
screens to the one that displayed Jarod’s cell. “Oh,
no.” The cell was empty, no occupant
noticeable. Walking closer, he noticed one of the techs he knew. “James, uh, where is the
guy who’s supposed to be here.” His finger
pointing to the guilty monitor. “Oh, Mr
Lyle has transfer papers for him. He will be back by tomorrow.” “Um, ok. Thanks.” Turning, Broots walked out the
room, hoping he would be in time to phone It was only when he heard the
wheezing that he finally took note of the person he had collided with. “Going somewhere…Mr Broots?” “M…Mr Raines, I…I didn’t…I…uh, I
mean….yes.” Stammering, he tried to get out from under the scrutiny
of the bald man. He tried to scuttle around the other man, without appearing
guilty, and not really succeeding when he felt Raines’s clammy hand on
his arm. Looking into the watery eyes of the half-dead man, he shivered. “What
were…you…doing…in the ….monitor room?” “N…nothing,
I…just wanted…James…” breathing deep, he started again,
his thoughts as jumbled as his words. “I saw a g…glitch in
o…one of the search p…patterns Jarod…had me programme, I, uh…wanted to s…see where
he….” fading, his words came to a halt. His heart sank when Gar
took his arm, pulling him past Raines. “I…think we
…should have…a talk…about your…future, don’t
you…Mr Broots?” Nodding, Broots gave one last
look at the hallway, towards where ************ Safe house
– 21:30 Margaret put the last of the
dishes away. She never before had such a positive belief that she could finally
see her family get back together again. Soon she would see Jarod again. She
knew about J and it angered her to think what the Centre was capable of in its
incessant greed for power and money. That they would create
another human being for no other reason than to exploit his abilities.
She promised herself that J would come to understand a mother’s love,
that he would be safe in her arms. Walking towards one of the
backrooms they have decided to set up for J, she joined her daughter. “Is everything set up, the
bandages and medical supplies?” Her daughter smiled, rolling her
eyes before acknowledging a question she must have asked three times already.
If not for Emily, they would not have come here. After Emily had met up with
her in A knock on the door ended the
thought. No one else was supposed to know about this place. Motioning to her
daughter, they dosed the room light, although it was too late. Whoever it was
would have seen the light. Silently, they waited. A second knock came, more
insistent. All the years of running had honed her instincts and something about
this situation did not sit right. Quietly, she grabbed her daughter. They crept
to the back window. Drawing the curtains back, an involuntarily scream left
her. The white visage of a face looked back at her, grinning. Running, they
sped from the room. Looking around her, she tried to think were to go as the
tinkle of glass being broken reached her ears. The front door was vibrating as
whoever it was, kicked at it. She grabbed the fire stoke, her grip tight around
the shaft. She waited as Emily pulled a pan from one of the fasteners in the
kitchen. Having made her decision, she pulled the backdoor open, Emily
swinging. The gong as the pan connected sounded loud in the silence, vibrating
around the clearing in front of the back door. Not stopping, they ran into the
woods, the sounds of shouts and pursuit coming behind them. ************ Safe house
– 21:40 For the third time in a couple of
days, he lost his temper. The man that was supposed to have guarded the back
door was trying to rise to a sitting position. The other two men he had brought
with standing next to him. They had lost the women in the initial hunt, a more
detailed search needed now. Calmly, he took out his gun. Without any hint, he
pointed it at the struggling man and pulled the trigger. He only received
slight satisfaction from killing the incompetent man, his eyes searching the
surrounding area. With one last look at the body, his eyes travelled
to the other two, their eyes cold and portraying no remorse over the death of
their teammate. “Find them.” ************ Undisclosed
vicinity The nightmare had been so real;
she could still smell the gunpowder in the air. The blanket was tangled around
her body, increasing her feeling of claustrophobia, her thrashing not helping.
Tears flowed down her cheeks, her hands fighting the suffocating hold of the blanket
before she became fully aware of her surroundings. Sinking into the softness of
the pillow, she wiped at the wetness on her face. She had managed to twist the
blanket around and in between her legs and the chain, turning her body so that
she faced the cupboard. Memories assaulted her body again, the bullet-ridden
body of Tommy smiling at her. Shuddering, she firmly pushed it back. She
stubbornly ignored the hole of hell, not wanting any other reminders of her
past or possible future. Pulling at the warm cloth, she finally escaped from
its embrace. It was only then that she registered that the door was open. She
was drawn to the inside, her hands shaking. Shaking her head in denial, she
looked in on darkness. Something chipped away on her defences,
gaping holes starting to appear. She couldn’t focus, her hands falling
over her ears. Falling on her knees, she curled tight, her forehead touching
the ground as if in worship. Whispers entered her mind,
swirling inside. The sound hissed and spat untruths that wanted to be heard.
She couldn’t concentrate, could do nothing under the barrage. They came
from everywhere, her soul immersed in the vortex. She tried to fight it, to
stand firm. Phantoms laughed in her face, taunting her weakness. Ghosts of the
past reared up, adding their voices to the clamour.
Too late she realised what was happening and why.
Tattered, bruised, and mortally wounded, she took her stand and fought for her
sanity. ************ Undisclosed
vicinity He smiled and then laughed.
Parker had finally succumbed, although admittedly he had to help her a little
by opening the cupboard to force her to look in on her destiny. Turning from
the screen, his step was light as he walked from the room and away from the
silent, cowering figure. ************ Safe house
– 22:00 The snap of a branch swung her
head to the side. Breathing shallow, she waited. The shadows changed,
the dark blue morphing to the black moving shape of the stalker. Her hand slipped slightly on the fire stoke. Increasing her
grip, she waited. They had no choice. They couldn’t leave the area; she
had no way of letting her husband know what happened. They had left everything
back at the house. She eyed the distance, waiting.
The step that took the man closer, also brought with
it a swinging arm full of determination and a mother’s fight for her
family. He never knew what hit him, his body crashing into the undergrowth,
deadly still. ‘One down, two to
go.’ ************ The Centre
– 23:10 Broots had no idea where his luck
came from, but he had a fair idea just to thank her for his share. He might
have been in a meeting for two hours, but all Mr
Raines wanted was to tell him how appreciative the Centre was of his skills and
that a raise might be in order. He hurried, nearly running in his haste to get
to a secure phone. He needed to speak to ************ Route 425
– 23:30 The surrounding area was sheaved
in darkness, the moon not enough to bring light. The two-lane secondary road
was quiet, the stillness rudely broken by the twin lights slicing across the
road. A bend in the road finally allowed the occupants to see their
destination. An old, broken-down church waited in front of them. The roof was
gone, one wall broken in half. The windows gaped open
over the unkempt grounds, gravestones chipped and long forgotten. The interior was silent, all of
them taking in the surroundings, the headlights creating surreal shadows that
crept from the broken crevices in the walls down towards the full grown weeds,
discarded equipment and dusty ground. A command from Lyle and the driver cut
the lights. Nothing moved, no night sounds from birds to lighten the mood, no
wind rustling the leaves in playful banter. “Lyle, I need my
hands.” Holding them for the blond man, Jarod waited for the arguments
from Lyle. He was slightly surprised when Lyle took out the key and unlocked
the cuffs, but considering Lyle’s earlier threats and the boy waiting
back at the Centre he knew there was nowhere for him to run. Jarod followed Willie as they
stepped from the car. The brace helped a lot and he managed to make his way
into the churchyard without any help. Turning on the spot, he took a more
careful look of the surroundings till he finally found what he was looking for.
Just in front of where the main entry used to be, was the sundial. It was set
in the centre of the path leading to the arch of the main doors. He approached
the edifice reluctantly, aware of Lyle’s eyes on him. A nest of spiders
had settled there, the face covered in the silk strands of their web. Peering
closely, he could just make out the faded carvings on the blue-grey stone, the
middle stand long since broken and discarded. He looked back at the car with
Lyle leaning against it. Taking a deep breath, he followed his dream he had the
previous day, walking to where the numerical ten pointed. The old storm shelter was only
that in name, the wood rotten and the door hanging on one hinge. Entering the
darkness, he stopped when a command from Willie was whispered harshly. The flashlight
nearly blinded him, killing his night vision. Grabbing the one the dark man
offered, he inspected the stairs in front of him. They were worn down from
countless feet that must have traversed them. The church had used this as a
storing place for their garden tools at one stage, the remnants of some of the
tools still lying around. The room was stifling, the air coming from the broken
door mixing with the mustiness of disuse. His flashlight created a pool of
light from which things rustled and escaped as he swept it around the room. His
sharp gaze finally settled on what he needed. To the back, tucked away in the
corner was an old shovel, the handle broken three quarters up. Even in its
state, it didn’t seem to fit in with the rest. Stepping closer, he
removed the tool, taking note of the wall. The boards were tucked in too tight,
too new to be part of the rest of the room. His fingers followed the boards,
the roughened wood digging splinters into the tips. The latch was cleverly
disguised, made to look like a darker age spot that marred the plank. Pushing,
he heard the click, the whole section swinging inward on oiled hinges. Taking
one last look around him, they descended into the darkness that had opened
before them. ************ Turn-off just
south of the Centre The lights dimmed, the car
crawling to a standstill. The driver door opened, feet crunching on gravel. A
loud whisper followed, the person squinting into the darkness. It was answered,
the rustle of leaves being parted followed by a pair of feet quietly pressing
on gravel before doors silently opened and shut with barely a whisper. Turning,
the engine started. The rescue mission was underway. ************ Undisclosed vicinity This is a dream. And in this
dream, darkness ruled. She called in her broken defences,
cradling them close her breast, her heart pumping away her lifeblood. The sky
was black; there were no stars to bring light. She was seated against an old,
dead, acorn tree. The bark was rough against her tender skin, the stark
branches reaching for the sky, empty of any green. The grass cut into her feet,
their stalks brown and dead. She could barely see the black shadows of the land
around her. A lone tear slipped down her cheek, her only emotion to the death
around her. Another excruciating stab of pain from her wound made her gasp,
bending her body in half; her hands holding tight to the tendril of life that
seemed to be slipping like a golden thread of light from between her fingers.
She continued her hold, tightening her fingers even more on the elusive thread.
He followed the slightly slanted
shaft, down into the depths of Hades. His feet shuffling, the
limp noticeable. Now and again, he looked behind him, where Willie was
following to make sure he didn’t disappear. As if he could, seeing that
no openings or turnoffs greeted their small circles of light that their
flashlights created. It ended abruptly, his light greeted by a closed wall. To
the left of him was a ladder, stashed neatly against the wall. Small slivers of
light escaped between the square blocks of steel set into floor in front of
him. Looking at Willie, he silently asked the dark man to help him. One kick
was all it took. This is a dream. And in
dreams, there has to be hope. Fighting, she stubbornly held on, her fingers
dripping with blood. The clatter of the grate sounded
loud to Jarod. Pulling at the ladder, he lowered it into the room. A stairway to heaven opened.
The darkness parted before her - a thin sliver of light descending. She almost
believed it could be true, the light no more than a pinstripe. Swinging his body over the gap,
he took the steps carefully, descending slowly. He was halfway down when he
took a quick look around him. The room wasn’t that big, about the size of
his cell back at the Centre. Through the steps of the ladder, his gaze settled
on the toilet. Tucked into a corner on the same side was a box full of tins and
water bottles. The other side held bedding. A small open cupboard door met his
gaze, the angle preventing him from seeing the inside. What made him start down
faster was the body that lay close to the bed. She looked in wonder as an
angel appeared, somehow looking familiar. Her wound ached; ignoring it, she
continued to follow the angel’s decent. Jarod wanted to cry. Parker was
curled in a protective position; her eyes open but not seeing. From her left
ankle snaked a chain, set securely into the wall by the bed. He could see the
inflamed skin poking from behind the cold steel. Her hands were bandaged, the
reason behind that not something he wanted to speculate on. Slowly, so as not
to startle her, he approached her in the same manner you would a frightened
deer. You’re not real. This is
my nightmare… You’re not real; you’re only my dream… Kneeling painfully, he reached
for her. Gingerly, his fingers brushed her hair from her face. This is a dre… Softly, his voice full of
compassion and love, he uttered her name, “Parker.” The angel’s voice
sounded so full of compassion, it relieved the ache in her heart. It hurt less
and she wondered if this is what happens when you die…And then she
wondered, if this is a dream…can I die? Carefully he sat down beside her
body, aware of the time constraint. The angel knelt by her side,
his closeness bringing comfort. She wanted to let go, a sob escaping before she drew her broken defences
close again. Jarod did the only thing he
could. Gently, incredibly soft, he started to sing the nursery rhyme that had
always drawn him back from his brink of the precipice of insanity. His voice sang a song so
beautiful she never wanted to forget it. Tilting her head, she closed her eyes
to listen. The words started to heal, closing the gaping death wound that had
punctured her heart. She wanted to float on their love, but then
she remembered, this is only… She responded, shifting a little
closer to his body. Her eyes still staring inward, but there was hope. Aware of
Willie waiting above, his hand slowly started a comforting rub on her back,
continuing the song. Somehow, this was different.
She tried to ignore the hidden messages; enjoying the touch…she frowned.
Is this a dream? Looking around her, the sky was changing; dark, roiling clouds
making way for pastel colours of sunrise. The hurricane turning into an invigorating breeze, bringing with it
strength. The grass, dead and dying under her feet,
sprouting green shoots of life. Her sight returned, and with it, the
hope she had been searching for. “Jarod?” Looking into the murky eyes, he
quietly nodded. Pulling her into his arms, he held her fast, her head over his
beating heart. Her arms forming a protective barrier between them before she slowly unfolded them. They encircled his body
tentatively, her heartbeat and his beating in unison. Holding her like that for
a minute, his throat constricting. He could feel a wetness starting to creep
into his shirt, Miss Parker silently crying into his chest. Ignoring the
emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, he finally allowed the present to
bring them back to their danger. “Parker, I’m sorry,
but we have to leave. It’s not safe.” She didn’t want to let go.
He was the thread that stopped her fabric of reality from unravelling
completely. Holding tight, she slowed the tears, nodding slightly into his
chest. She lessened her hold on him only slightly, aware of every move he made
through the thin T-shirt he had on. He stretched past her, pulling her legs
closer. She could feel him work on the shackle, the slight scraping from the
tool he used sounding harsh in the stillness. The click vibrated around the
room, her left leg suddenly free of the heavy constraint it had been stuck with
since she had been here. She felt his muscles tense, a gasp escaping his body.
She knew that her leg wouldn’t be pretty, she had been aware of the
scabbing and inflammation that the friction of the chain had left on her skin.
She was suddenly, irrationally afraid that Jarod would be so disgusted that he
would leave her here. She increased her grip, her face burrowing into his
chest; not wanting to look into his face and see his revulsion. She felt his
fingers light on the area, tracing the pain. She heard his murmurs as he apologised for what had been done to her. Again, he gently
told her that they had to leave. She really wished for that to be true. He muscles stretched underneath
her hold, and she felt Jarod pull the slippers tenderly onto her feet. She
allowed him to pull her to her feet, her legs weak but holding. When he tried
to loosen her hands a little, she nearly panicked. He was going to leave her
here; maybe this was just part of her continuing nightmare. Shaking her head,
she whimpered into his shirt. His tender voice finally registered. Changing her
grip so that she tuck underneath his arm, she allowed him to steer her towards
the ladder. Her heart clenched in pain, not wanting to loose her one real
thread when she had to let go of him in order to climb. He seemed to realise what she wanted for he kept close to her, climbing
behind her, touching her occasionally to let her know he was there. Reaching the darkness, she nearly
lost her grip in fright when a hand pulled her through. Squinting, she waited
as Jarod was helped through. She tried to think, tried to imagine why Willie
was here, but her thoughts scattered again, her only thought again to hold on
to Jarod. Grabbing his hand, she followed his directions, happy that she
didn’t need to make decisions, not caring why Jarod had a brace around
his leg or where he was leading her too. This might be part of a dream,
but in this dream, she was free. TBC |