| 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 Decisions and plans The Centre, Friday The Centre was alive with people,
even on a Friday evening. It had always amazed him the dedication that could be
brought with fear. Fear and pain. Flexing his still
recovering muscles, he stepped into the corridor leading to the tech room. He
smiled at an Asian secretary that was moving down the hall towards the offices.
His eyes devoured her and he wondered briefly if he should indulge. Dragging
his gaze from her voluptuous body, he concentrated on the reason he had come
down. Tugging at his glove, he entered the tech room with thoughts back on
track. Only one thing mattered. “Mr. Heath, have you set up
the website like I told you.” His cold, impersonal gaze settled
on the tech that sat in front of his computer. “Y...yes sir. We have
received no hits so far, but as soon as there are any
I...I'll let you know.” “The email account is my
eyes only?” Swallowing, the tech nodded.
Satisfied, Lyle left the room, whistling softly to himself. He hoped he didn't
have to wait too long. He wanted what was rightfully his and nothing is going
to prevent him from getting his property back. Nothing. ************ The Russell home, Saturday
morning "J, get your behind down
here, this instance." Rolling deeper into his bed, J
tried to ignore the anger-filled shout from downstairs. His eyelids were heavy
and he wanted nothing more than to sink back into oblivion. "J!" Sighing, he decided that his dad
would not give up. Turning on his back, he placed his arm over his eyes. He
could hear the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Grumbling that it's
Saturday, he lifted the sheet and swung his feet off the bed. He quietly closed
the drawer he noticed was open as his dad entered his room. "Didn't you hear me?" "I'm up, ok. Just
relax." He replied obstinately, ignoring the look on his father's face. "J, you will not address me
in that manner. I'm your father and not one of your friends. Do you understand
me?" J looked up at his father's
disappointed and angry voice. Apologizing, he rose and stepped towards his
cupboard. His father stood waiting, and he gave a glance at the clock. Eight thirty. Then he remembered. He's supposed
to meet the auspicious Dr Brown and by the look on his father's face, they
should have left already. Grabbing a shirt and pants, he quickly dressed.
Slipping his trainers on, he followed his dad downstairs towards the exit. He
stopped when he saw Jarod waiting in the living room. "What is he doing
here?" Exasperated, Major Charles turned
and looked at the angry face of his son. "I asked Jarod to come with
us." "No." He ignored Jarod completely,
instead focusing all his growing resentment at his father. Why did his dad have
to bring him here? He didn't need any reminders of his not too recent
past. If it hasn't been for Jarod, he would have never lived the nightmare he
wanted to forget. This was all his fault. "Dad, its
fine. I'll stay with
mom." Jarod tried to ignore the guilt
that burned like white fire inside him, consuming a part of his soul. He
disregarded Lyle's taunts that told him that this was his fault, while he
turned towards the kitchen where his mom was cleaning up. "No. Jarod, I want you to
come with us," turning from where his older son stood, he gave a stern,
warning glance to his younger son, "J, get your butt in the car. Now." He waited, hoping he had not gone
too far with his younger son. He watched J wrestle with the command before
reluctantly making his way out of the house. Placing his hand on Jarod's
shoulder, he said, "I'm sorry, son. I had thought that things were a bit
better." Jarod gave a small smile, nodding
his head in understanding. "I had hoped…" swallowing, he
dropped his gaze. Shrugging, he started for the door. His dad's grip increased
and he turned back at his dad. "We'll get through this,
Jarod. I promise. J just needs more time." "I know." Together they made their way out
of the house, after saying goodbye to Margaret. J was kicking at small pebbles
on the ground, scuffing his trainers. He ignored Jarod, instead getting in the
backseat when his dad unlocked the doors. He stubbornly kept his mouth shut,
ignoring his dad's questions. He stared out the window, not really seeing the
scenery as it flashed by. Instead, the blur brought with it a flashback that
left him numb and unfeeling. Closing his eyes, he wished for the little white
pills laying in wait in his drawer. Why couldn't he forget? He tried to struggle but the
sweepers held his arms in a powerful, bruising grip. They pulled him towards
the door that held his fear. Moaning, he tried once more to stop them dragging
him forward but he could just as well have tried to stop an avalanche. They
stopped in front of the door, increasing their grip on his arms. Winching at
the added pain, he let his body go limp in an effort to stop the inevitable. They
held him for a second or two longer and then let him go. His knees struck the
concrete hard, and with his hands bound behind his back, he was unable to stop
his head from slamming against the floor. Turning slowly onto his side, he drew
up his legs in an effort to try to protect his already bruised stomach. Instead
of kicking him, the sweepers stood back and gave him an unimpeded view of Jarod
in the viewing room. The pretender was looking straight at him. He watched as
Lyle said something and his brother's face darkened. Jarod started to rise and
another sweeper pushed him back in his seat. J couldn’t make out what was
said, he was too far away to hear anything but he understood the meaning behind
Lyle's body language and Jarod's. He could see Lyle smile, staring at him
before directing his gaze back at Jarod. He spoke again, and Jarod shook his
head. J bit his lip when he heard the door open. Fear paralyzed him, terror
gripped his heart firmly and his muscles refused to respond. In stead, the
sweepers dragged him inside and proceeded to strap him in. His own screams mixed with
those on the screens. Every time he closed his eyes, he would receive a violent
blow from one of the sweepers. He was forced to endure another endless spiral
of death and destruction and in the end; all he could do was weep
uncontrollably while making loud promises that he would do anything as long as
they stopped the recordings. The silence that followed was exquisite and he was
so relieved that he followed the commands of the sweepers without question. He
stumbled between them, out the door. Gazing from underneath his lashes at the
viewing room as they walked past it, he saw his brother's bent head and Lyle's
triumphant grin. He was shoved forward and as he stumbled, he promised himself
that he would never forgive Jarod. He had been brought back to that room
because of Jarod and nothing the other would do is ever going to make him
forget that. This was all
his fault. Turning from his dark thoughts,
he noticed for the first time that they were slowing down. His dad turned into
a driveway and brought the car to a halt. He got out, taking in his
surroundings. The doctor's house was set against the backdrop of huge sandstone
boulders that looked like it had been stacked one on the other. The house
hugged the boulders; to him it looked like the inflow of nature into the
reddish cement-like outer wall of the house. Grass surrounded the front of the
house while trees brought shadows across the green carpet. He followed his dad
and Jarod up to the front porch, impressed by what he saw. A man was waiting
for them. He was tall with a little bit of rounding around the middle. His hair
was mottled dark brown and gray and the green eyes danced with friendliness. He
shook J's hand with a firm grip and gave him a friendly pat on the back and
everyone went into the coolness of the house. With a cold glass of coke in his
hand, he seated himself on the divan in Dr Brown's study. He was alone, his dad
and Jarod talking to Dr Brown first. Putting the frosted glass on the table, he
stood up and browsed along the bookcase. The normal psychiatry books were
evident but sitting next to a book on Freudian principals was Terry Pratchett. Intrigued, he pulled out the hardbound book. He
had just started reading the first page when he heard the door open. Surprised,
he dropped the book and turned a frightened gaze on the man that stood in the
doorway. Embarrassed, he bent down to pick up the book and put it back. "You can borrow it, if you
want." Smoothing the folded page, he
mumbled his thanks and started to return it to its place next to Freud. "It's quite funny, in actual
fact. I think you might even enjoy it." Confused, he kept hold of the
book as he lifted his head and look at the Dr Brown. Deciding that taking the
book might mean less conversation, he returned to his seat and placed it next
to him. He was nervous, and shifted in his seat, waiting for the inevitable
question he knew that would follow shortly. It was always the same, with his
dad, Jarod and Sydney. They never did understand. After a while, J frowned and
looked from where his hand had been fiddling with the book to where Dr Brown
seem to have fallen asleep in his chair. Annoyed, he wondered what kind of
psychiatrist would agree to see a patient and then ignore him. Clearing his
throat, he watched as Dr Brown opened one eye. "Aren't you supposed to ask
me questions and stuff?" Shifting in his seat, he smiled
inwardly. He had been told that the boy was intelligent and his father and
brother had given him a brief overview of what the boy had experienced. That
and "If you know the questions,
why don't you give me the answers then?" "What kind of psychiatrist
are you?" He smiled and put the pencil
down. He had the boy's attention. "The kind
that likes honesty from his patients. J, I know you're hurting but if you're not prepared to deal with
it then I cannot help you. Do you want me to help you?" He watched the boy drop his head
and look at his fiddling hands. He waited patiently as J debated with himself
about the validity of his question. He wanted J to ask for help. It was
important that the boy acknowledge that something more was wrong than just bad
memories. They sat in silence for five minutes before J looked up briefly and
said softly, "Yes." Not satisfied, Dr Brown
purposefully ignored the soft word, and instead prompted J. "Sorry J, I
couldn't hear what you said." He watched as anger briefly
flashed in the boy's eyes before J said more loudly. "I want you to help
me." He smiled an encouraging smile
and rose from the desk. J eyed him warily as he stepped towards the boy.
"Good, then this is our pact. Trust me with your memories. Whatever you
say will stay between us and no one else. This will be your safe place and you
can come visit anytime you need me. I expect only
honesty from you even if it hurts. Agreed."
Stretching out his hand, he waited. J was surprised. This was not at
all what he had expected. Taking a deep breath, he took the offered hand. ************ Unknown area Lyle took a sip from a sports
bottle as he surveyed the woodland clearing he stood in. The sun was high, the
sky blue and he was enjoying the hike. Counting his steps across the clearing,
he was pleased with his initial evaluation. He picked up his backpack that had
been leaning against a red oak. Adjusting his straps, he continued up the trial,
taking in his surroundings. The area was well clear of the normal tourist
attractions and trials that are used over late summer. He had found it on a
previous excursion and had used it more than once. There were enough mountain
streams to take care of his liquid needs and food he generally packed. The
nights were starting to get cold but that would not be a problem. A good
sleeping back and fire will take care of any uncomfortable chill that might be
in the air. He stopped on a ridge overlooking
a tucked away valley and took a deep breath of the clean mountain air. It had a
pleasant musk odor to it and he enjoyed the freedom and vastness of the area
around him. Closing his eyes briefly, he fantasized about what he was going to
do when he had his property back. He had been planning this while he had been
left alone in the darkness of his cell, his only companion the pain that had
embraced him like a lover. Those months had allowed him to work out the details
until all he waited for was the opportunity to use it. He continued on the trail,
stopping now and again to take in certain details. He left small markers
against tree trunks and rocks as he walked up and down the mountain, meticulous
in his planning. Finally satisfied, he made his way back to the small woodland
clearing. He noticed the sun going down and he started to make camp. He was pleased with his
assessment. Now all he needed was his property. ************ West coast Jarod dropped his jacket on the
chair. He thought about going for a quick surf, wanting
the calmness that the waves brought. J still ignored him. The whole trip had
been a big mistake. He shouldn't have gone and the only reason why he got in
the car was because his dad asked him to. “Are you ready to do the
sim, Jarod?” Looking at Lyle, Jarod shook
his head. He met Lyle's gaze defiantly, expecting to be punished for his
denial. He hasn't seen J since he had recovered from his ordeal with Alex.
Ignoring the little voice inside him that Lyle will find a way to use the boy,
he stubbornly kept his eyes on his captor. The chairman's son motioned to the
sweepers. They pulled him upright and dragged him after Lyle's receding back.
They entered a side door that opened into a rectangular room. One side of the
room had a viewing glass installed, the other side of the room bare except for
one chair that sat in the middle. He could see an extensive sound and view
system set up in that small room. The sweepers dumped him in a chair and stood
silently behind him. He heard footsteps and J moan and watched as they dropped
him in front of the door. There was nothing he could do to protect him as J's
head connected with the concrete. Ignoring the hollow feeling in his stomach,
he watched as the boy turned painfully slow onto his side. He met J's gaze and
he could see that J was scared. “Jarod, everything that
happens to J from this point onward is your fault.” His face darkened and he
started to rise at Lyle's words. The sweepers grip was tight as he was pushed
back into his chair. His leg hurt and he decided that there was nothing he
could do to prevent what was coming next. Lyle wanted to prove a point, nothing
more. “Are you ready to do the
sim, Jarod?” He shook his head, hoping that
J will someday forgive him. He sat numbly as the sweepers dragged J into the
room and strapped him to the chair. The sweepers held him in place
as he fought to reach Lyle. He was screaming his anger and frustration at his
captor, his tears flowing as J's screams intermingled with sobs reached his
ears. Lyle just looked at him and smiled. He finally relented, admitting
defeat. His head hung and he whispered brokenly that he would do the Sim. He could feel Lyle's triumph at his surrender and the
recordings were shut down. He listened to the commands of the sweepers and he
winched at J's quiet sobs that now filled the room. They pushed his brother
from view and he couldn’t find the strength to lift his head and look as
J walked past the doorway. Pulled to his feet, he was dragged to the Sim lab, where he completed the simulation on how to murder
a leading CEO of a rival organization successfully. No! Jerking awake, Jarod sat up on
the couch. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned and dropped his feet on
the floor. His ragged breathing slowly returned to normal and he heard a car
draw up. Moving towards the door, he opened it on a surprised Parker. One look
was all it took and she enfolded him in an embrace. He allowed his own tears of
frustration to flow as his best friend held him. Spent, he told her about this
morning and J's unresponsiveness. “I don't know if he will
ever talk to me. I can't even forgive myself for what I had allowed.” Seated again on the couch with a
cup of coffee, he looked at Parker. “Give it time. We'll get
through this.” Taking his hand, she held it fast. He smiled at her,
thanking her for her words. This was how ************ The Russell home J was surfing the net for a
project he needed to do for school. He was bored, and wanted to read a bit
before he went to sleep. Randomly selecting websites from google,
he flicked through the pages quickly. He noticed a link that he haven't seen
before, and on impulse decided to check it out. Clicking on the hyperlink, he
waited for it to open. He smiled while he scrolled
through the page. A research group needed volunteers for its study. He liked
the idea behind their thesis proposal and decided to sign up. The sight
promised privacy and pseudonyms can be used. He completed the questionnaire
quickly and sent it on its way. Shutting down his machine, he turned to his
bed. Maybe tonight he will sleep without need of the little white pills that
waited in his drawer. Margaret woke with a start. She
could here screams coming from down the hall. Grabbing her gown, she put it on
as she hurried towards J’s bedroom. She knew Charles was right behind
her, his presence strong. Her hand flicked the switch upwards, the light bright
for the few seconds it took her eyes to adjust. She made her way to her
son’s bed where J was thrashing in his sleep. “J…J…come on,
honey, wake up.” Gently cooing, she took a
swinging hand in her hand. Pulled from his nightmare, his confused eyes settled
on her. Charles entered with a washcloth and she wiped the sweat from J’s
face. He finally became aware of his surroundings. Taking in the worried
features of his parents, he apologized softly for waking them. “J, don’t worry.
It’s why we are here. Do you want something to drink?” He nodded at her question and
watched his mother leave the room. He shuffled into a sitting position, using
the headboard to lean his back against. “Do you want to talk about
it?” Shaking his head, he looked away
from his dad. He wanted to forget the nightmare. His mom returned with some hot
cocoa and he thanked her. Telling them that he was fine and that they should
return to bed, he promised that he would wake them if he had another nightmare.
Taking a sip of his cocoa, he watched his parents leave. Finally alone, he
waited another minute just to make sure that one of them didn’t return
before opening his drawer. He quickly downed one, suppressing the little voice
telling him that he was becoming addicted. He explained to the voice that he
could stop any time he wanted, but for now, he allowed the blackness of sleep
to overcome his nightmares. TBC |