| 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 Turning point The Centre vineyard –
23:45 The plan was now being set into
motion. Sydney, the Major and Harry was patiently waiting for the hour to
announce the start. The windows were slightly open, the warm night air bringing
little relief to the tension in the car. Once again, he went through the plan
in his mind, trying to find a flaw, anything that could spell disaster. The buzz of the phone on his belt
made him jump. He was in mind to ignore it, to let it ring until the caller
decided to give up, but another thought crept in with it. What if it was the
Centre? If Raines or Lyle were trying to contact him, wouldn’t it be
better to answer and deflect any suspicions that they might have. Looking at
the Major’s worried face, his hand closed on the vibrating phone. The voice on the other side was
excited, whispering loud enough for the other two men to hear. “ “I’m here Broots. Slow
down and start from the beginning.” His unease grew as Broots
unfolded the night’s events more fully. The boy was missing, no one had
any idea where, Jarod taken from the Centre by Lyle for some unknown reason. Closing the phone, he faced the
anxious father, his heart in his throat when he forced the words he
didn’t want to say. “We have to call it off.
I’m sorry but there are complications that we didn’t
foresee.” He could see anger start to mar
the face of the man in front of him, well aware of the anticipation that had
built up just to change into disappointment. Slowly he began to explain the
situation. It was ten minutes before the
Major reluctantly agreed to wait another day. Another ten before ************ Undisclosed
vicinity Jarod followed Willie, the
lighter square of darkness in front of them increasing in size. Miss Parker was
holding on tight to his right hand, her feet making soft, sloshing sounds next
to his shuffling feet. His limp had increased to a very noticeable favouring to one side, trying to keep most pressure off the
ever-increasing ache that shot lava-cooled lumps of burning pain from his ankle
up towards his trembling thigh. His face had a drawn look, the lines around his
lips and eyes filled with the fatigue and pain he was trying to keep at
manageable levels. Wearily he allowed his feet to draw him closer and closer to
the doorway. The doorway that led to a waiting Lyle and the Centre, and he was
under no illusion as to the way Lyle would use J to get him to perform like
their trained monkey once again. He was worried for Miss Parker, she needed
help and not the kind that he was sure Raines would give. In her current state,
she was very vulnerable. The observations he made while being in the room was
enough for him to know that Alex knew what he was doing and he had nearly
succeeded in breaking her completely. Her stubbornness had held the insanity at
bay and the fact that he arrived when he did, helped her to pull out of the
defensive comatose. He waited while Willie stepped
through the doorway. Bending, he led Miss Parker through the doorway into the
storm shelter, the dark man’s flashlight helping to light the way. Miss
Parker had just stepped into the room when Jarod watched in disbelief as Willie
crumbled before his eyes, folding downwards into a boneless heap. His
flashlight fell with him, the light dancing wildly before finally half-mooning
to a standstill, slashing a path towards their feet. Jarod pulled Parker behind
him, his stance protective. He could just make out the darker shape of another
man, but what made him stand still was the glint of blue metal that was held in
an outstretched hand. He felt Parker move slightly behind him, her hands
grabbing hold of his shirt. He could feel her trembling, her breaths coming in
fast gasps. Turning he whispered to her, his voice calm, “It’s
ok.” He turned his attention back on
the darkened shape in front of him. He started to lift the flashlight in his
right hand; the faint shake of the gun stopped him. Dropping his hand to his
side again, swallowing the fear that started from a pit somewhere in the centre
of his stomach. He opened his mouth to question, to say anything that could get
them out of this situation, when another shake of the gun closed the query
before it slipped out. They stood there in silence, the
wait so long that he could see the dust motes starting their dance on the
pathways of light. The creak from a falling branch outside startled him,
breaking the stillness with a loud crack. That seemed to be what the body in
front of him had waited for. The gun dropped slightly to his hand holding the
flashlight. It took a more aggressive gesture before Jarod understood and
switched off the light. He slowly moved towards the steps, the gun waving
silent instructions. Following, Jarod kept Miss Parker behind him. He limped
painfully up the stairs, the stars greeting them brightly, unaware of the drama
unfolding beneath them. Jarod could barely see the car
from where they stood besides the broken-down shelter. He thought of making a
noise, any noise thinking that an enemy known was better than the silent
unknown in front of them. Miss Parker kept hold of shirt, he could feel her
trembling and it worried him, wondering what had been done to change her
personality so profound. The gun waved again. Turning, he
could faintly make out a trail between the trees. During the time they had been
inside, a wind had sprung up, the branches creaking in an ancient song while
the unseen air moved between the towering trees. He pulled Miss Parker
underneath his arm, glancing back occasionally as they made their way on the
faint white gravel. It felt surreal, unimaginable. He simmed scenarios, possible escapes but he had no idea what
Miss Parker would do. He was sure that she would follow his lead, but he
doubted that she had the physical strength for a run through the woods; but to
be honest neither did he. So he kept limping, Miss
Parker at his side with the darkened menace of the gun-wielding hand following
sinisterly behind them. ************ Safe house
– 24:00 Margaret crouched in the heavy
underbrush just south of the house. The pistol she had taken from the man felt
heavy in her right hand. Her left came up slowly,
indicating to her daughter to move five steps left of her current position. She
waited, ignoring the sweat that was starting to drip down her face. The
faintest whisper of a twig being tread on alerted her to the man that was sneaking
up on Emily. She could just make out his form as he froze, waiting to see
whether he had been discovered. She still did not move, her own breath held in
hope. Apparently satisfied, he continued his movement forward. She barely
registered the white of his eyes that was focused on her daughter's back. He
stepped past her position, oblivious of her presence. His hand rose, and with
it hers. Both silent and intent on their task. She
used all the strength when she brought the butt of the gun down on the hapless
man's head. She watched the body crumble, her hand aching from the shock that
had sprung through the gun’s frame. She gave a small smile to Emily, to
show her that she was fine. One thought settled in her mind. 'Two down, one to go.” ************ Undisclosed
vicinity – 24:10 Lyle once again looked at his
watch. Impatiently he wondered whether Jarod had decided to make his escape. He
could think of no other reason why he had not seen Willie with Jarod and Parker
in tow. Swearing, he opened his phone. The number he dialled
went unanswered. Thinking of ways to make Jarod pay for the delay, he motioned
to the driver to follow him. The light was diffused, the glow
almost imperceptible but enough to guide him to the storm shelter. His gun was
out, leading the way inside. He finally made out the darker, unconscious shape
of Willie, an expletive leaving his lips. Stepping forward, he knelt next to
the dark man. He cruelly slapped at Willie’s face until the other moaned,
his head turning sideways. Standing, he watched the dark man lift a hand to his
head, coming back dripping wet. His voice was deceptively calm, the cold
dripping ice on each syllable. “Where are they?” Confused brown eyes looked at
him, Willie still waking to the realisation of what
had happened to him. Lyle’s anger increased, just barely contained in its
cage. Willie must have seen the look, grunting a hoarse answer in staccato. “There was someone else.
Miss Parker and Jarod had just stepped through when he must have hit me from
behind.” Lyle let go of another more colourful expletive. Following the stairs back out, he made
a full turn, the creaking trees staring back at him. Grabbing the flashlight
from the driver, he took a good look at his feet. The footprints were there,
the imprint from Jarod’s shoe distinctive. The hours he had spent
outdoors now came handy; he could clearly see the third set of footprints that
meant that there was only one attacker. Good. The driver followed as he started
tracking his prey, the adrenaline surging comfortably through his veins. No one
had the right to take his property and get away with it. ************ Safe house
– 24:15 'She's good. No wonder the Centre
had difficulty in tracking her.' He had found Karl, unconscious
from a heavy blow to the head. He doubted whether Karl would ever wake up.
Leaving the man behind him, he followed the tracks as best he could. He nearly
stumbled over the second body. Dropping to his haunches, he felt for a pulse. A
faint beat touched his fingertips. Gordon was out for the count and from what
he could determine, will be for the rest of the night. A small smile settled on
his face. Finally, in all the years he had
spent in his profession he once again had a worthy advisory. They were so few
and they were always far in-between. Jarod was the only one who had come close
to capture him. If not for the fact that he had that file on Emily to bargain
with, he would certainly have been caught. Jarod was so predictable in his
efforts to protect and find his family that he would do almost anything to
ascertain those goals. That is a weakness that Lyle would definitely exploit,
the boy alone was enough to enforce cooperation. With the added bonus of
knowing his father was in the clutches of the Centre, it would guarantee
Jarod’s willingness to do anything in order to protect him from further
harm. He knew, even with Lyle's threats if he failed to find Major Charles,
that apprehending this family would become his prime achievement. When he had
handed them over to the Centre, he would retire. He had thought about this, and
he did not think anyone else would ever be able to present him with the same
challenge than this family did. Breathing slowly, he stepped over
the body. He knew that the woman would be somewhere close by; they wouldn't go
too far from the house. What they did not know was that he had one more
surprise addition to his team. He was waiting by the road, making sure that no
one escaped down that way to intercept the Major and the paramedic when they
returned. He wanted to have the woman under his control in the house by the
time they came back. He had two hours more, he reckoned, before their return. ************ Undisclosed
vicinity The house slowly came into view.
The clearing was small, barely big enough to be called that. The house was
barely that, a little more than four log walls with a closed door and window
facing them. The aggressive shake of the muzzle forced them on, continuing the
silent walk towards the house. The door they entered creaked
ominously, increasing the haunted feel of the clearing and its sole occupant.
They heard the door answer in closure, the final click as the lock was engaged
increasing the feeling of dread that had settled in Jarod’s heart. He
pulled Parker closer, no idea how he could protect her. He could feel the
increased beat of her panic, her face pressed into his side. The cold wetness
of her silent tears increased his grip around her, pulling her even closer into
the enclosure of his arms. The moans from the wind creeping through holes in
the walls created a mockery of ghostly life in the complete darkness that
surrounded them. He couldn’t see where the gunman was, and that increased
his fear for Parker’s safety even more. The scrap of sulphur
against phosphor startled both of them. The flame showed bright, the light
expanding to the hand that held it. Slowly, the flame was brought higher,
throwing chilling shadows across the face of the man who held the burning fire. “Alex.” His whispered growl chained the
wind, creating a void that incorporated the grinning sociopath and them,
cutting of all reality of the world around them. Boxing them in, he watched as
the flame burned ever lower. Just before the end would come with burned
fingers, the flame was sheaved into a storm lantern, given life again. “You know, Jarod, life is
precious or so society proclaims. Personally, I find the manipulation of life
so much more rewarding.” Jarod suppressed his anger, his
arm protective, keeping the brunette close to him while he tried to think why
Alex had him brought here. He waited, aware of the silent gunman that hovered
behind them. “Take Miss Parker for
example.” Jarod took a step forward, his
angry denial just starting when the click of the safety being released stopped
him. His defiant gaze settled on Alex, glaring daggers on the unconcerned man. “The well-known Ice Queen
that hid beneath daddy’s lies in the hope that
he would show her some affection, maybe even the illusion of fatherly
love.” Jarod could feel the tensing of
Parker’s muscles beneath his arms. Her tears had dried, she was listening
and he wondered how he could spare her from what Alex was saying. He wanted to
shatter the words, to prevent them from surrounding Miss Parker but he could no
more stop them then he could stop the sun from shining. “You should have seen her
when she saw daddy’s head. I must say that it was one of my best artwork
yet and she believed it to be real. That grief she showed was definitely not
earned but she gave it willingly.” Miss Parker gasped, her mind
conjuring the face again in the macabre setting of the cupboard. Her defences still weak, barely recovered from the last
emotional torture, she felt them crumble again. The only strength that kept her
from collapsing completely was the sound of Jarod’s heart close to her
ear, his arm tight around her. Jarod’s deep voice filled his chest, she
could hear them boom from inside, momentarily drowning the sound of his heart. “What do you want?” Smiling, the sociopath leaned
into the chair he sat in. “I told you before, Jarod.
You never listen, ignoring all the obvious facts that screamed at you from
right under your own nose. I will say this again, for your sake. Why assume
that I want anything…from you.” Jarod closed his eyes for a brief
moment. He could feel the weight of the forgotten flashlight in his right hand,
an escape plan starting to take form. “If not
me, from whom then?” “You’re the genius,
figure it out. Why should I make it any easier for you?” Alex chuckled,
genuinely amused by Jarod’s question. “Somebody’s giving
orders and its not you. Who is it?” “Why, I’m hurt
Jarod." Pouting, Alex's cold eyes settled on his. A sinister smile played
on his features, his one hand pushing the box of matches next to the lamp. "After all, I’m a
pretender too, or have you forgotten. You keep coming back to the question that
I’m not alone…that there is some big powerful overseer behind me
handing out orders. Sorry to disappoint you but all this is my doing." He
paused, his hand tapping the box, making a small hallow sound. Turning his head,
his gaze narrowed on the pretender standing before him. Apparently satisfied
with what he saw, he gave another low chuckle. His next statement sent slivers
of cold ice running down Jarod's back. "But, as in all true characterisations, I needed a henchman and that is what
Mark back there fulfils. I personally cut out his tongue. A nice touch,
don’t you think?” Jarod saw the slight twitch in
the corner of Alex’s mouth. Enough for him to confirm
that his suspicions are true. He remembered the last time they had met,
the final words before Alex had slipped and fell. “Somehow, I don’t
believe you. This takes more skill and subtlety that you could ever hope to
achieve.” Jarod shifted slightly, his
stance readying, waiting for the outburst from Alex. And he was not
disappointed. ************ Safe house
– 24:30 They had no idea where the third
man was. She had caught a quick glimpse of him when they had double backed,
enough for her to know that he was dangerous. Following her mom's directions,
she crept slowly forward, aware of the night sounds around her. Her right hand
held the gun they took of the second man that had stalked them, the grip
unfamiliar but not uncomfortably so. The sound of crickets suddenly stilled,
froze her in place. It was somewhere to the right of where she crouched. She
cursed the silence, her gut tightening with each passing second. She nearly let
out a sigh of relief when they singsong started again. Her gaze met those of
her mother’s, as they slowly started moving forward again. Another command
from her mom, and she moved two steps further, widening the gap between them.
She tried to swallow; her mouth was dry with tension. Eyes darting, she stopped
briefly to allow her tense leg muscles just to relax for a second. The first indication she had that
someone was behind her was when a hand snaked around her head, covering her
mouth and nose. She started to retaliate, her left leg kicking backwards, hard.
It only met air, the person twisting away from the kick. Her elbow rose and
before she could do anything else, was pinned to her side. His arm pulled her
tight against his body; she could feel his sinewy muscles ripple against her
back. The hand that kept her close pushed the hard muzzle of a gun against the
tender flesh on the underside of her chin. A harsh, whispered command followed.
She opened her hand, dropping the gun she had held. Her body bucked in response
to the air that failed to flow past the grip he had on her face. Darkness
started to edge into her consciousness when she felt his hand slowly release
her. Gratefully, gulping in air she tried to shift in his hold. His veiled
threats stopped her, whispers of promises that would come true if she tried
anything. She tried to see where her mom was, her eyes shifting towards her
left. Nothing. She started to open her mouth when the
gun pushed hard into her flesh, breaking the skin. A grunt left her; she could
feel the blood pushing a path down her throat. “Margaret, it’s over.
Your daughter’s life is in your hands. I want you to step forward, hands
raised.” She could hear the gravely voice,
her hand steady that held the gun. She knew that to live, she needed to kill
the person who held her daughter. The grunt of pain from her daughter clenched
her insides into knots. She was so close to having her family back together
again and she would fight with everything she had in order for it to happen.
She needed time to think, to work her way around behind them. She started
towards her right, aware of where her daughter’s breathing increased in
pain. “You have five seconds,
then say goodbye to another child.” “No, don’t hurt
her.” She tried to stall, the answer
allowing her to move another few feet around them. The sound of a gun going
off, striking flesh stopped her in her tracks. No, please. Oh God, let her be
all right. She heard her daughter’s cry of pain, nearly breaking her
heart in half. “The next one will
kill, Margaret. Do you want another child’s death on your conscience?
…Margaret?” “I…I'm coming
out.” She took another few steps. She
could hear Emily’s quiet sobs, the impatient breathing of the man that
held her. She threw the gun into the general area, then stepping into view with
her arms raised. She could just make out the figure of the man, Emily tight
against his body. Her left arm hang uselessly next to her side, the blood
dripping dark against her white skin. “You just saved her life.
Now I want you to turn around and kneel. Keep your fingers interlocked behind
you're head. Try anything, and you'll watch Emily die. Am I clear?" Emily watched her mother nod
stiffly, her gaze trying to explain her actions. She took a pain filled breath,
her arm throbbing. She could feel the blood drip from her fingertips, big, dark
drops that swelled and fell as gravity pulled them down. The gun was still tucked
underneath her chin, a dark bruise already forming around the small circle of
broken skin where the barrel had pushed in. She nearly let out a whimper of
grief when she watched her mother turn and kneel on the ground. Whispering
threats, the man behind her released her, pushing her towards her mother. His
hand on her shoulder, he forced her to kneel. She could hear his hand rustle in
his clothes before the familiar clink of cuffs filled the air. She started to
turn her head, a harsh warning pulling it forward again. She was waiting for
the cold steel to snap around her wrist when a gunshot rang out. Her first
thought was that he had shot her mother, her eyes frantically pulling left to
meet the confused gaze of Margaret. Turning around, she watched the body of the
man that had held them, collapse to the ground. His face had a comic look of
disbelief on it, as if this reality should not have happened. "Emily?" Rising, Margaret stepped to her
daughter, only to get there at the same time as Harry. Watching in wonder, she
saw her husband step from the brush, the smoking gun still in his hand. "How…" "We were close enough to
hear the gunshot. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone." His arm pointed to the body on
the ground, his words uttered with contempt. "This was the man that had
delivered J back to the Centre. If it wasn't for him, we would have been
safe.” Her husband's arm pulled her close into an embrace. His voice changed, gentleness evident when he whispered, “I'm just
grateful that you and Emily have not been seriously hurt." She turned to where Harry was
helping her daughter to stand. "Where's
Jarod and J?" Emily asked, her arm roughly bandaged and resting in a
sling, the throbbing a little bit better. She was leaning tiredly into Harry,
his one arm gripping her waist, the other her arm. Her brown eyes were fixed on
her father’s, waiting for an explanation from him. "There were some
complications. I have no idea if Mr White has
contacted the Centre or not. Either way, we have to get away from here. I'll
explain what happened on the way," he answered, starting towards where
they had parked the car. ************ Log house Jarod watched Alex rise from the
chair like an avenging angel, the storm lantern throwing shadows across his
face that moved and writhed in anger so primeval that the remembrance of it was
a vague pinprick on the time-line of life. He had to take an involuntary step
back from the surreal image before him, his left leg nearly giving way beneath
his body. His hand tightened on the woman that stood next to him to keep him
from stumbling. He could feel the tension and play of her muscles beneath his
hand when she resolutely stood fast to provide the support he needed. That step was all it took. Miss
Parker seemed to awake from her dream, her tear-streaked face angling towards
his determined face, his hand still holding tight to her arm. It was in that
moment that time stood still, that all the things he had always wanted to say
to her seemed to flow between their hearts. Intertwining, understanding.
It was the perfect moment of communication, his intent as visible to her as if
he had said it aloud. He felt her muscles ripple, her legs spreading slightly
to help steady his stance. Her gaze was clear, ready for the action he was
about to take. His hand drew back, the
flashlight twirling from it, his body enfolding hers as he pulled both of them
towards the ground. Time returned with the flashlight crashing into the lamp.
The glass shattered, splinters showering Alex’s arms, slicing through his
clothing. The flame spluttered and leaped with the spilling gasoline, hungrily
consuming the dry wood and Alex’s cloth where the fuel splatters had
fallen. The matchbox ignited with a hiss and flare, fuelling the rapidly
spreading flame. Alex’s screams was enough to draw Mark to his side,
clumsily trying to hit at the flames that were quickly spreading. Ignoring the
chaos behind them, Jarod rose, pulling Parker with him. The key was still in
the door, turning it and exiting seemed to take so long, their lungs heaving in
the smoke filled air. Coughing, shaking, they held on
to each other as the fell from the room into the warm outside air. They
stumbled and crawled till they had moved away from the ever-increasing heat
that growled behind them, the house now totally consumed in its hunger. Jarod
stopped, his leg finally succumbing to the physical exertion he had put on.
Rolling onto his back, he watched the flames shoot into the sky, the roar and
crackle loud in his ears. His eyes streamed with tears, soot covering his
clothes and face. His head rolled sideways, meeting those of Parker's. She was
sitting by his side, bent over and gulping big mouthfuls of air. His hand
reached for her before his own need for air started hacking coughs. The heaving
of their bodies as they drew in clean air, expunging the foul air in violent
explosions; kept the words inside but it didn’t matter. Something had happened inside and
with it the knowledge that against all odds, the ending of their story had
forever been changed. TBC |