disclaimer : NBC owns (some of) the characters, I own the words
note : for Andrea. First in trilogy. Timeline up to “The World Is Changing”. Translations given only where needed.


SECRET AGENT MAN TRILOGY
I.  WHO DOTH WATCH O’ER US NOW?
by Schuyler


‘Hey Parker, let’s play twenty questions.’

Miss Parker glared at her brother, then turned to look out the window of the light plane. She held a glass of Vodka to her forehead, hoping to ease away the tingles of an oncoming migraine but to no avail. Sighing, she withdrew her hand and swallowed the remaining liquor. Mr Lyle merely raised an eyebrow and, having received no objections, began the game.

‘Do you think I have our father’s good looks?’ His reply was a slight snort and look of disgust.

‘Well, that is purely your opinion,’ said Lyle, picking off invisible lint from his shoulder, ‘as you are entitled to have them. I, however, do believe I’ve inherited some of his best qualities.’

Like the uncanny ability to kiss Triumvirate ass , Miss Parker thought, but kept the remark to herself. She nervously stomached the mountainous terrain below; they were flying over the Brei?dalur area in Eastern Iceland, against all weather warnings that had been issued by the locals prior to takeoff.

Broots had been implementing the new data security system when a yellow flag went up on his computer. In the search for Jarod, someone had identified a situation that sounded very much like those which attracted the pretender’s attention. An anonymous response to one of his many ads posted online outlined how a mysterious American had helped out a small village outside of Egilssta?ir, past the eastfjörds. The man, known only as “Jarod”, exposed a European company who, posing as governmental officials doing agricultural research, forced several farmers to sell their land and then used the area as a chemical waste dump. Several toxins from the site made their way into surrounding mountain streams - streams plentiful in salmon and trout, and in which livestock drank from - the poisoning wrecking havoc on local farming and fishing industries. He assisted environmental groups in the massive cleanup, forced the company to compensate affected villagers, yet refused any credit for his actions.

She was impressed; Jarod’s interests were turning global. Unfortunately for Miss Parker, Broots had come down with the flu, Sydney was under annual review by the Tower, and all Centre sweepers – Sam included – were on a weekend retreat designed to improve communications and teamwork after a recent mishap took three lives. That left only her and Lyle to make the intercontinental trip.

But, upon arriving in the capital Reykjavík, more bad news awaited them: they were informed that a cross-country fight in the Centre jet would be too dangerous and simply out of the question. Parker and Lyle were forced to navigate the icy dirt roads in a 4WD, rugged up in double layers of coats and scarves to combat the 10 below temperatures. In what could have been a cleverly executed setup by Jarod, both adults soon decided they could take no more “bonding time” being shacked up together in the suffocating car. So when they arrived in Núpssta?ur down southward, they provided one of the locals with enough incentive to fly them to their destination in his tiny plane. Half a day in the rickety craft was a lot more preferable to four more days in the car with just each other.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the window, the vibrations from the low humming of the engine almost lulling her into slumber. She would have fallen asleep too, had it not been for the irritable voice of her brother.

‘The object of the game is to ask each other questions and receive answers in return. It won’t work if you don’t take part, Parker. Come on, don’t you want a turn?’ he inquired innocently, and yet mischief shined brightly in his cool, blue eyes.

‘No.’

‘You can ask me anything, anything you want.’

Realizing he would not drop the subject until she participated at least once, Miss Parker paused briefly, then shifted her body to face in Lyle’s direction. ‘When you were ten, what did you want to grow up to be?’

Lyle’s eyes widened as he sat up a little straighter in his seat. That had been unexpected, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to address his childhood fantasies. His past had been painful to say the least, and brought back all kinds of unwanted emotions he had tried to quell. Memory was pain trying to resurrect itself; best to remove himself from it, put distance between his transition from Robert Bowman to Mr Lyle. He glanced over at his sister, who was still awaiting an answer to her query.

‘I wanted to do what every other kid in Nebraska did,’ he said in a non-committal manner, waving his hand as though to dismiss the question, ‘this and that. Nothing too exciting.’

‘Oh? Please do elaborate.’

Blushing slightly he averted his eyes to the floor before saying, ‘I wanted to run away and join the circus. Become a performer.’

The foreign sounds of laughter rang through the plane, Miss Parker’s fit of giggles strangely contagious as Lyle involuntarily joined in. As the chorus died, both adults tightly clutched their sides at the stitches that were beginning to emerge, Lyle echoing the question that had started it all.

‘I can’t remember,’ she quickly replied, but the expression on her twin’s face claimed he was unconvinced. ‘Okay, okay, I wanted to be a ..’

Straining to hear what she had said, Lyle frowned at his sister when he couldn’t make sense of her mumbling. ‘Say it again, I think I missed it.’

‘I said, I wanted to be a ballerina,’ she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. The grin on her brother’s face grew immeasurably at the confession, and suddenly, she felt rather embarrassed and stupid for revealing something so personal.

‘Why didn’t you? You certainly have the legs for it,’ he smirked. Miss Parker’s eyes narrowed, and she shot him a look that said don’t even go there while he filed the snippet of information away in his mind for future use. They sat in silence for the next ten minutes, each deep in thought when they were both suddenly knocked from their seats. The plane bobbed in the air for a few moments before taking a sharp nosedive, setting off a shrill beeping noise that registered in both their minds.

‘What the hell is going on?’ she shouted above the noise as they attempted to make their way towards the pilot. Crashing to the ground again, they slid and hit the underside of the control panels, the pilot’s frantic arm movements hovering above their heads. ‘What’s happening?’ she repeated, with more urgency.

‘…g veit ekki! …g ættir a? vita betur, ?a? lítur illa út ..’

Picking himself up, Lyle began waving his hands in a crisscrossing motion. ‘No, no, speak English! English! What is going on?’

‘Hvernig segir ma?ur óve?ur .. storm. Storm bad. Skilur ?ú ?etta? Plane no strong enough.’ They watched as he pulled at the steering wheel with all his might, just managing to pull the plane out of its spiraling descent to level out and barely glide over the top of a mountain.

Miss Parker let out a deep breath she hadn’t known she was holding, chest heaving in and out with each gasp of air. ‘You can get us to safety, right? Out of this storm? Why the hell did you take us if you knew there was going to be a storm? You idiot!’

The pilot glared back, and spat out in furious Icelandic, ‘far?u til fjandanns! …g setti mig í hættu fyrir ?ig, og vi? rétt sluppum! ?etta er tilgangslaust –’ He got no further as another wave of turbulence hit the aircraft, and just like the grown twins, was knocked from his seat, banging the side of his head on a corner of the console.

‘Shit!’ they cried in unison. Miss Parker fumbled over the fallen pilot as she tried to obtain a pulse, Lyle taking over the controls.

‘Damnit, he’s unconscious,’ she yelled as her arms tugged wildly at the body, moving him to another place on the floor to give her brother more room. He nodded, eyes focused somewhere on the scenery that was rushing by the windows. ‘Can you even fly a plane?’

I’ll be damned if I let something like that stop me , thought Lyle. ‘No, do you?’

She shook her head, swallowing the large lump in her throat as panic took hold of her insides and knotted them up.

‘Then I suggest you grab hold of something solid because this is going to be one hell of a ride!’ Lyle shouted, knuckles turning white from the force he was gripping the steering wheel with. He stole a glance at his sister, flashing her a quick smile and joking, ‘guess we missed this in the brochure, huh? We’ll have to demand a refund when we return to that travel agency.’ Normally he loved the aroma of fear and sense of danger – in ways it even aroused him to a degree – but right now it was unnerving, a cruel reminder of the fragility of life.

Even though he wasn’t a pilot, Lyle knew they were still far too low, going too fast, and it was clear their luck would run out soon. Miss Parker watched as the snow-filled clouds were building up rapidly over the mountains, and knew they hadn’t a chance of outrunning them. She could see no place for Lyle to land, and there was no protection from the snow which was to come. If only they hadn’t demanded being taken on the flight and listened to the villagers instead.

The narrow valley down which they were flying now veered East. Before them lay a vast stretch of winter-bare trees, and just beyond them, what seemed to be a barely visible outline of a small town came into view. A ghostly cloud, forerunner of the threatening body that massed behind it, caused the aircraft to buck from its invisible embrace once more.

‘We’re going to have to go around,’ Lyle claimed, pointing at the forest that lay before them.

‘Can’t we just fly through it?’

‘It’s too thick; we’d never make it.’ He grinned at the irony. Just mere seconds ago they had been praying for protection, and now there were literally hundreds of trees, now standing between them and safety.

‘Then hurry up and save our asses from this storm,’ she replied, wide-eyed as the first snowflakes touched the outside of the small plane.

Coming to the end of the forest, Lyle now had to cut across the path of the snowstorm, the aforementioned town now within clear sight. It was mostly made up of small houses lined up in rows, surrounded by the large timber fence that encircled them like a fortress. They were already flying dangerously low; there was no chance of getting past the wooden barrier without breaking through it first.

It’ll be safe , thought Lyle, squinting through the whiteness that was masking the town, nobody in their right mind would be out in this kind of weather .

Ten feet from impact, Lyle let go of the steering wheel and Miss Parker took hold of him, the two ducking down with the pilot’s limp body, away from the control panel as the earsplitting sound of the crash tore through the craft. Shards of glass, metal and lumber flew everywhere. The first cold gust of air ripped through the debris, lashing at their vulnerable bodies.

Eventually they skidded to a halt, whatever that was left of the plane now acting as a temporary windbreak as it lay at a horizontal angle against the storm. Lyle managed to pull himself and his sister out from beneath the twisted metal, and she clung onto him for dear life. He strained to see through the falling snow, trying to find a line of sight, a house they could go to for shelter, but could see nothing. It was madness to try and stand upright: they stumbled aimlessly for a couple yards, but were continually beat down, screams drowning in the howling wind.

With arms still entwined, Lyle collapsed onto the ground, his body a fireball of pain, unable to endure the elements anymore. We’re both going to die here in the snow together . Miss Parker followed suit, her frame falling over Lyle’s, unconscious.


TBC

disclaimer and notes in part 1.


‘Where do you think they came from? It must be a faraway place. Did you not see the clothes they were dressed in Ívar? Expensive! I’ll bet they’re royalty or something; he looks like he could be a prince.’

‘Kristín, focus!’ came a sharp hiss. ‘You are a Carer, chosen by the Elders for this task. What would happen if they came in here and found you neglecting your responsibilities?’

Frowning a little, he dipped the cloth in water, wrung it and continued to sponge the woman’s feverish forehead. Ívar had found her and the men some five days ago, unconscious and buried beneath a layer of snow and debris from the plane as well as the outer town fence. He’d bolted down the street, across the yard and into the local church, alerting Father Gu?jón and his older brother Baddi to the unexpected visitors. Together they had carefully extracted the three bodies from the wreckage and sought shelter within the walls of the church, watching as the snow storm raged on.

It wasn’t until the next evening that the storm had temporarily ceased, allowing the three to venture out into the cold night to call for assistance from the other townsfolk. With oil lanterns and canvas stretchers, a group of eight men slowly trudged through the unmarked snow, transporting the foreigners to the small hospital across town.

And so, for the last four days, he and another Carer had kept a vigil, taking care of the two – for one had died before the group arrived at the hospital – as pyrexia ravaged their bodies during the day and nightmares disturbed their slumber at night.

‘I don’t even know why you were picked from a selection of many other, more qualified people, Kristín. You do nothing but sit there and daydream, ignoring your patient as he cries out in his sleep.’

‘Oh, stop your whining Ívar! The only reason you got chosen was because you found them; you have no real credentials beside your name,’ she replied, poking out her tongue. Ívar was her cousin from her father’s side, barely two years older than she, and a true pain in the neck. He always liked to find opportunities where he could order her around like a slave, simply because he had no sisters of his own to annoy instead. It irritated her to no end.

‘You only got this job because your father convinced the Elders to give you a second chance after the incident with the goats,’ Ívar retorted. Her mouth formed a small O, remembering the trouble she had caused the last time she’d been handed responsibility. Feeling sorry for his cousin, Ívar tried to give her a sympathetic smile. ‘It was an easy mistake; any one of us could have made it. If you want to prove your worth to the Elders, show them the good you’re capable of, and skills such as focus.’

Confused by the last remark, Kristín followed the direction of the older boy’s gaze, suddenly realizing that her fingers were playfully twirling a strand of her charge’s hair. She blushed slightly and pulled her hand away, returning to the task of bringing down the foreigner’s temperature.

‘What? He’s got silky hair.’


.


Just as Sydney was about to leave, the shrill ringing of the phone delayed his departure. He rushed over to the machine and answered, desperately hoping the person he had come searching for was on the other side of the connection.

‘Miss Parker, is that you?’

‘Sydney?’ came a puzzled voice.

‘Jarod?’

‘Yes. What are you doing at Miss Parker’s house? And where is she? I’ve been calling her for the last few days, but she hasn’t been answering,’ he admitted, an exasperated tone barely concealed in his voice.

The psychiatrist sighed heavily and plopped himself onto the couch with a small thud, forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘She’s missing Jarod. Miss Parker and Mr Lyle have yet to return from their trip to Iceland.’

‘Iceland,’ Jarod repeated slowly, making sure he was getting the right information. ‘They’re lost in Iceland?’

‘Apparently so. You didn’t know? I’m certain they were following a lead on you up there.’

He shook his head against the cellular placed beside his ear, but the words he spoke were contrary to his action. ‘Oh, yes, I remember now. Iceland. That was quite a while ago Syd; the lead is surely out of date. But I have heard recent weather reports predicting snowstorms for that region, so, perhaps they’ve been delayed by bad weather and are waiting for it to clear up before flying back?’

‘But she hasn’t called.’

‘Well, maybe the phone connections are down,’ Jarod rationalized while popping a PEZ candy into his mouth. ‘I’m sure Miss Parker’s just fine Sydney. It’s Mr Lyle you’ll probably have to worry about. Who knows what kind of torture our dear Miss Parker has unleashed onto him by now.’

Sydney chuckled, thoughts of the feisty brunette unloading her seemingly boundless anger upon her poor brother bringing a small grin to his aging face. ‘You’re right Jarod,’ he agreed, standing up and smoothing out the creases in his suit. ‘I’m overreacting. They’re probably waiting for a flight, or maybe even on their way back right now.’

‘Exactly. So go home and get some rest Sydney. It’s almost one in the morning.’

With his mood lifted slightly, Sydney terminated the call by replacing the receiver on the hook. Surveying his colleague’s living room once more, he reluctantly made his exit, carefully locking the door behind him.

On the other side of the previous phone call, Jarod threw his cellular onto the bed in his motel room, and began to pack his belongings. Despite having reassured his former mentor of the two adults’ safety, he could not shake the uneasiness that stirred from deep within the pit of his stomach.

Lyle’s jumping the gun; I’m certain he wasn’t planning to go underground this soon. What the hell does he think he’s doing? Something must be terribly wrong .


.


The nurse poked her head through the doorway, checking up on the two young adults. She was glad to see that they were both still up, by their respective posts like responsible Carers. Perhaps they hadn’t been such bad choices after all.

Even though the room wasn’t large, it wasn’t too roomy either. Against the east wall stood four narrow beds, of which only two were occupied, a medium-sized double-layered window in the north one covered up by thick brown curtains. The only light source came from a burning oil lamp, placed upon a table in between the two middle beds, its yellowish orange flickering fingers climbing all over the walls and furniture, creating a moody atmosphere. Ívar and Kristín sat upon wicker chairs at the end of the foreigners’ beds, observing the two for any signs of improvement.

The woman’s fever had gone down a couple of degrees during the early hours of the evening, but the man’s temperature lingered round the 102ºF mark. Neither had awoken since arriving at the hospital, locked within their tormented dreams. This caused only to fuel everyone’s desire to learn more about the strangers who had invaded their quiet town almost a week ago. All that was known about them was they had come from a long way south, mostly like near Núpssta?ur farm – they were the only ones with planes not unlike the one which had crashed through the town’s southern gate, used more for flight lessons rather than tours.

The silence of the cold winter night began to scratch at Ívar’s nerves, his eyes starting to droop despite many attempts to keep them wide open. He glanced over at his cousin, softly cursing her as he realized she had just closed her eyes and fallen fast asleep.

As he stood up to walk over and wake the girl, the woman stirred in her bed, crying out for a person named Thomas. Just then, her eyelids suddenly flew open and she bolted upright, and he was greeted with two pale blue eyes, devoid of any warmth or emotion. Her beauty took his breath away; he could perceive great knowledge from her stare, and yet, there was an air of innocent also.

Slowly walking towards the patient, he gradually made his way round the bed so that he was standing next to her, but before any words could escape his lips, he was cut off by the sharp tone of her voice.

‘Don’t come any closer! Stay where you are!’

She spoke Trade. Although not surprising, it would prove to be interesting on his account. ‘It is all right. I am here to help.’

‘Help me?’ Miss Parker asked incredulously, ‘well, you can damn well start off by telling me where I am and what the hell happened. God, I have a splitting headache,’ she added, the pounding in her head growing stronger with each passing moment.

Ívar cleared out his throat. ‘I know not much of you or the man you come here with,’ he nudged his head in the direction of Kristín’s charge, ‘but you had an accident in the plane, and crashed into our fence. We had to bring you here, to hospital, but Prestur Gu?jón, he buried the older one who died in the snow.’

A montage of memories flashed through her mind, and she faintly remembered the pilot yelling something about the light plane having problems. She nodded, not really listening to what the boy had to say, and sluggishly surveyed the room, her eyes coming to rest on the sleeping body of her brother. And irrational and odd sense of fear overwhelmed her at that moment, afraid for some reason, that Lyle was the one who died despite what she’d just heard. Throwing back the blanket, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stood up, and gave a yelp of pain as her weak legs gave way beneath her. Luckily, Ívar was standing close enough to catch her in his arms, the close proximity almost sending him crashing to the ground in an inebriated haze.

Gently laying her down again, he explained to her that although there was no serious damage, she had twisted her left ankle while also fracturing one of her wrists, and gathering an assortment of cuts and bruises during the plane crash. Miss Parker let out a low growl, knowing she’d have to stay put for a while if her injuries were to heal properly. However, looking over at Lyle, her injuries seemed to pale in comparison to the dislocated shoulder, fractured ribs and mild concussion he had received.

‘How about giving me a name?’ Miss Parker demanded after a short pause, the reality of her current situation finally beginning to sink in. She and Lyle were lost, stranded in some remote town in an icecap of a country, injured, and somebody had changed her clothes. ‘Where are my clothes? Did you change them too? You little pervert!’

‘My name is Ívar,’ he replied, ‘and no, I did not .. I did not change your clothes. The nurse did.’ He blushed at the accusation, but Miss Parker hardly noticed due to the poor lighting.

‘You may address me as Miss Parker, nothing more, nothing less,’ she said with as much authority as she could muster. Just because she was injured did not mean she would allow others to fuss over and make decisions for her. ‘Great, now I need to pee.’

The young Carer’s face became puzzled. ‘Pee?’ He was unfamiliar with the term, and therefore could not grant his patient’s request.

‘You know, as in urinate, go to the bathroom,’ she almost yelled, refraining herself from grabbing hold of his neck and wringing it like a towel. ‘Damnit, I have to pee now!’

‘Ah, I understand. Let me get bedpan for you.’

The woman’s eyes widened with shock and repulsion, her jaw dropping as though it were unhinged from the rest of her face. ‘No! Absolutely not! You can forget it!’ she practically screamed, awakening the sleeping Kristín. Ívar rolled his eyes and suppressed a moan. Already he could see that this Miss Parker was a tough woman, and was positive that she was going to make the rest of her stay very difficult for him and anyone else unfortunate enough to cross their paths.


TBC

disclaimer and notes in part 1.


‘Boy, I’m gonna put some sense into that head of yours if it’ll be the death of me.’

I can see him unbuckle his belt, the leather one that makes the sharp sound when it hits bare flesh, my flesh. His eyes burn of anger, they shimmer with hate; I have made him this way.

‘That was a year’s worth of corn that you destroyed, and for what? A stupid schoolyard prank. That corn put food on your table boy, what are we going to do without it now? We can’t make any money from it, and it’s too late to start on a late crop. We’re gonna starve boy, and it’s all your fault. You hear? It’s your fault!’

It’s my fault, it’s my fault, everything is always my fault. I watch his hand grip tightly at the makeshift whip; he looks back at me, and I comply with his inner thoughts and pull down my pants, turning my backside towards him. I know the drill. I’ve been down this road before. Best to get it over and done with.

‘I don’t care what your mother says, I’ll teach you some discipline yet, get it through your head about taking the tractor without consent. You gotta be smarter than that boy, if your gonna survive out there in the world.’

The leather eats into my flesh. Again and again. My eyes sting with unshed tears, knowing that if they fall the punishment will be worse. I tense my body before each lashing, scream when an impact is made, relax to take a breath and then tense all over again. Sometimes I tense too early, sometimes too late; my nerves tighten as though the belt imbued life into them, subordinate to a higher authority.

‘What’re gonna make of yourself, huh? You’re nothing; ain’t worth a damn nickel that’s spent on you. Boy, there’s no heroes like in the comics out there in the world who are gonna save you. Nobody’s gonna save you.’

I smirk. He’s wrong, because there are people who will rescue me. People like Jarod. He stands before me, holding out his hand, a warm smile on his face. There is goodness in him, and I take his hand, knowing everything will be all right as he takes me away from this prison of nightmares.

x

Lyle shot up, arms flailing against the blankets, sweating, a dead scream snagged within his throat. He caught the attention of the bustling day nurse who had come in to open the curtains and cheerfully announce the dawn of day.

‘Good to see you awake foreigner! Lying in bed all day will do little for you. Come, look at the fresh fall of snow before it is trampled into murk,’ she chirped, it being quite obvious she was in an awfully good mood. But Lyle could not look outside the window at the weather, the pain shooting through his upper torso too much to handle as he collapsed back onto the bed.

On her way out, the nurse poked Kristín in the shoulder, bringing her out of peaceful slumber with a sudden jolt. As soon as her vision cleared and eyes focused upon the man, she leaped out of her chair and rushed to his bedside.

‘Hæ, hvernig hefur ?ú ?a??’ she asked hurriedly, forgetting he could not understand her. Only when he frowned in confusion did she realize her mistake. ‘Sorry. I speak Trade for you. How do you feel this morning?’

‘Awful. I feel like I’ve been in a train wreck,’ he groaned.

‘We have no train here, but you were in plane crash. Hurt badly. Manst ?ú eftir? Do you remember?’

‘A little.’ Lyle studied the young girl before him, and then glanced round the unfamiliar room. ‘Who are you and where am I?’ he asked cautiously.

Kristín smiled at the man. ‘I am Kristín, your Carer, and you are in Isachsen, small town fifty kilometres from Sey?isfjör?ur. Is that where you going? All the tourist like to go there.’

‘No, we were headed to Egilssta?ir. Looking for a man there.’ Pausing, Lyle took the opportunity to gather some of his strength back. Even talking was becoming difficult for him, the tight bandages surrounding his chest not helping the situation much. ‘This is a hospital, right? How did I get here?’

‘Men from our town, they bring you here after the storm calm down. They rescue you from bad weather, and doctor say you is lucky because you could have died like other one.’

‘Parker? Are you telling me she’s dead?’ he responded quickly, his voice hitting a slightly hysterical tone. Kristín shook her head firmly.

‘Nei, the one you call Parker, a woman, yes? She is somewhere in the hospital, making trouble for the doctor. He say stay in bed, but she say no, yell at him like a man and want to walk around. She is very difficult.’

Lyle smiled, the first in a long while. ‘Yes, yes she is.’


.


They walked upon fresh fallen snow, each step making a soft squishing sound. It was still the new hours of the morning, and the path was unmarked aside from the footprints of Ívar, who had gone home earlier to collect the food to feed the two strangers, his cousin and himself. Now he walked back towards the hospital, this time accompanied by his elder brother Baddi at his mother’s request.

Word had spread quickly in their small community about the strangers. Everybody wanted to know more, the children fathered whatever information they could extract from those who had come into contact with them. Ívar was clearly the favorite, the children almost leaping upon him as he entered the house, thirsty for more news. He told them what he could: blue eyes, dark hair, both very tall, and the woman had a terrible temper, dominant as any man.

‘Like a man! Like a man!’ went the whisper from each child to the next, eyes gleaming with delight. His mother needed only clap her hands once, and the children dispersed, allowing Ívar to move into the kitchen to collect the bundle of warm food.

‘Be careful,’ warned his mother as she wrapped a scarf round his neck. ‘We do not know why they are here, or what they want from us. It is unheard of for someone to brave the oncoming winter like that. Treat them kindly, but be on your guard.’ She placed a kiss on his forehead.

‘I will, mother,’ he replied, then left with his brother to make the journey back to his patients.

Baddi was much older than his sixteen years – he was twenty and seven to be exact – the son from his father’s first marriage and the one every young woman fought for his attention. ‘Why don’t you find a nice girl and settle down,’ mother always asked him, and he’d always answer with, ‘I could never love any girl as much as you mother,’ and leave it at that. So, he remained a bachelor and helped out with the family, occasionally traveling outside the region to Akureyri or Reykjavík, Evrópa, and once even to the Americas for “business” only he knew. Nobody questioned it; he brought home money and needed supplies, and that was enough for them. Ívar wished his brother would sometimes take him along too, but could never muster the courage to ask. He wore only a long dark cloak over his clothing, a thick crop of light curls hidden beneath the hood. Pulled behind him was a small sled, on which lay the bundle of food.

They walked in silence, enjoying the peace of the morning before the town grew noisy with activity. Before long, they had reached the steps outside hospital, one of the largest buildings in the town apart from the church. Ívar gathered the bundle and began to enter the hospital when his brother’s hand lightly touched his arm.

‘I would like to know more about her. You will tell me about the foreigner when you come home, no?’

‘Of course.’

‘Look after them for me, Carer.’

He nodded his head solemnly. ‘I will,’ he said, a hint of a smile on his lips, and then entered the building.


.


‘So, what’s on the menu for breakfast? I’m starving.’ Lyle gently patted his stomach.

‘My cousin has gone home this morning to bring food his mother prepared. As your Carers, it is our family’s responsibility to feed you.’ Kristín soaked a cloth in a bowl of water, then proceeded to wipe Lyle’s forehead to try and bring his temperature down further, a task she had become familiar with in the past few days.

At first shrinking away from her touch, Lyle allowed her to tend to him, cringing as she cleaned around his new forming scabs and changed his bandages. The skin round his left shoulder and part of his ribcage was tainted with several shades of purple, a couple lacerations here and there to add to the effect. His entire upper body was stiff and sore, making movement quite painful.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, leaving Lyle starting at the ceiling and Kristín still standing by the bed, constantly shifting from one foot to another.

‘Will your family be worry about you? I do not think you will be going anywhere for good long while if your injuries are to heal well,’ she began, hoping to start any sort of conversation between the man and herself.

‘Sydney and Mr Broots will certainly become suspicious after a period of time, but I don’t think our father will miss us all that much ..’ he trailed off, lost in deep thought.

‘Our?’

Lyle looked back at the girl. ‘Yes, our father. Parker is my sister.’

‘Oh,’ was all she could say, a light blush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks, but inside, her heart was wildly fluttering.

‘Do you have a name other than ‘Carer’?’

‘I am known as Kristín.’

‘Well Kristín, I am Mr Lyle.’ He managed a weak smile, showing her his perfect white teeth. She smiled back, gazing into his clear blue eyes that were like windows into his soul. And what a beautiful soul he must have , she thought, content to just watch him all day if not for the arrival of her cousin and the doctor with a slumped figure in his arms.

Kristín rushed over to take the food from his arms as Ívar assisted the doctor in placing Miss Parker back into bed. She unpacked the food and set it onto three separate trays, putting away the remaining share. As she spoon fed him the oatmeal, Lyle watched as Ívar sat down in the chair at the foot of his sister’s bed, ate a little of his food, then picked up a book and began to read.

‘Aren’t you going to wake up Sleeping Beauty and feed her?’

‘I let her sleeping some more,’ he replied, not once looking up from his book. ‘Miss Parker was awake very late last night, and early this morning also. I think she tired herself out, and now rest her sharp tongue for more battles later today. Gerum bara gott úr ?essu, hún er a? gera mig brjála?an.’

Kristín giggled, and Lyle looked to her for an explanation. ‘They give her something to make her sleep, because she cause much trouble this morning.’

‘You drugged her!’ Lyle laughed as much he could without having a coughing fit. ‘You’d better be careful, because if she finds out you’ll be feeling more than just her anger.’

After breakfast, as Kristín cleared away the trays, Lyle asked about ways for he and his sister to get home. However, his line of questioning was met with the same answer: not possible.

‘What do you mean ‘not possible’? There’s got to be a way out of here!’

Repositioning the chair so it was beside his bed, Kristín sat down, a map held in between her hands. She pointed to a place on the chart. ‘We are here, Isachsen, and here is the closest town.’ Point A was surrounded by what seemed to be large mountain ranges, the only thing separating it from point B. ‘The storm you come here in, ever year it comes and snows us in. When spring is here, the snow melt and you can go, but now, nei. Very dangerous to climb through mountains now.’

‘You’re trapped here, foreigner,’ said Ívar, his tone a mixture of disdain and amusement. ‘There is no way in, and no way out.’


.


Turning the keys in the ignition, Jarod brought the engine to life and drove out of the car rental’s parking lot. He drove slowly through the capital, headed north-west in his attempt to get to Miss Parker and Mr Lyle. From what little information he could gather, the two had also rented a car and driven their way to Egilssta?ir via the south-bound route.

However, weather forecasts convinced Jarod not to take that road, as several lives had already been lost on the roads due to the seasonal onslaught of blizzards. As said by the woman behind the counter at the agency, it would be a wiser decision to take longer, but safer course, which meant driving around more than half the country to get to a town he wasn’t even sure if his hunters were in.

‘Maybe I’ll stop by Baddi’s town. He’ll know how to track them down in this territory.’ And with his plan formulated in his head, Jarod continued to drive off into the rural landmass that was Iceland.


TBC