Part Four

Miss Parker was pacing barefoot through the warmth of the evening, feet barely thudding against the planked deck before she was going in the opposite direction. Ethan and Jim, as if it were choreographed, leaned against the railing of the long deck, watching her drift toward and away from them.

Ben Miller had casually suggested that he, Broots and Debbie prepare dinner, so the three had ensconced themselves in the kitchen readying a recipe Ben swore his mother had created herself. Comfort food, he had told them, that was still suitable for the warmer than expected weather. Parker had not acknowledged his words, her mind already drifting at hyperspeed toward conclusions she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to reach.

Sydney was seated in much the same position as he had been in the living room, legs slightly apart, leaning into the back cushion, elbows on the arms of the chair. He, like Ethan and Jim, studied her movements. Each of them perceived her, understood her in different ways. Sydney had known the child Parker and the huntress Parker, Jim knew the rescuer and the Centre captive, and Ethan knew the sister and cohort.

After several minutes of silence, Jim broke the silence, though the words seemed to surprise him moreso than the rest of his company. “What does it mean? Illusion?”

The boy’s voice, so like young Jarod’s, halted Parker in her steps. Sighing, she leaned against the nearest section of railing, looking out over the undisturbed bare earth that surrounded the house. “I don’t know.” Her eyes flitted sideways toward Ethan.

Ethan shrugged almost imperceptibly. “The voice… all I could make out is the word “illusion”. It only says what we need to know, and usually then only if it’s of vital importance.”

After a short pause, Parker spoke, “I think it may be the name of the… project,” she looked toward her middle, then back toward Ethan. “Like Mirage.” Further explanation was unnecessary, she knew. Ethan’s filename had been known by the entire family before they had even met him.

“Appropriate,” Sydney nodded. “Why Mirage? Why illusion? If the Centre knew them by these code words, why did they choose those words? What does mirage have to do with Ethan? What does illusion have to do with this child?”

A dry chuckle left Parker’s throat. “Seems that even when we find a few answers, there are more questions. Questions we ask, questions we should have asked,” she shook her head, the sound of an approaching helicopter meeting her ears.

“It means something,” Jim pointed out. “The Centre doesn’t just do things without a reason. Why send Jarod a stripped-down version of the file? Why follow him here? What’s the point?”

“They want the child,” Sydney answered. “The Centre…” his voice trailed off as he fought to find a foothold against his memories. “The Centre believes strongly, as an institution, in the flexibility of the mind. By using the natural intelligence of children and molding it within certain parameters, they believe they can make the mind function in a way that best benefits their goals.”

“In other words, best finances their exploits and most pleases the highest bidder,” Parker’s words were dry.

“Not everything the Centre has done is evil, Parker,” Sydney’s words were a gentle reminder of Faith, of her mother’s work, of Jacob, and of childhood friendships held close and secret.

“They want me alive,” Parker continued after a few moments, listening as the helicopter drew closer. Even from such a distance, she could see Major Charles piloting the aircraft toward a flat rocky area south of the house. “They want you alive,” her eyes piercing her brother’s. “The voices don’t mention anyone else, do they? This is about us, Mama’s children.”

“The Inner Sense?” Sydney questioned, observing the interaction between the siblings. Ethan’s head cocked to the side.

“It’s more than that,” Ethan finally responded, struggling with his words. “She hasn’t said so, but it feels… bigger.”

“An illusion,” she murmured, pushing herself back from the railing. “But what is the illusion, and what reality is it masking?” After a moment, she stepped away from the three men and headed down the porch steps toward where Major Charles had settled the helicopter. He was climbing from the moderately-sized bird carefully, propeller slowly turning above his head.

Catching a glimpse of the approaching woman, the Major turned to greet her as she walked closer. “Parker,” he nodded, glancing just beyond her to where Ethan stood on the porch.

“Jarod called,” the brunette responded, a hand pushing through her hair to keep the propeller-driven wind from tossing it unnecessarily. “I think it was a set-up.”

Major Charles’ expression creased with alarm, “Is he alright?”

“Yes, yes,” she frowned, “but I think the file he was sent came from inside the Centre, Raines or Lyle probably. When we were talking to him it hit me – and Ethan – that Jarod is being used to bring the Centre to me. They sent him the file the day I left, probably after destroying the cryobank. They must have assumed I already knew what we figured out after a few days and decided that I would reach out to Jarod for help, one disaffected Centre spawn to another.” Her words were bitter, her tone that of a wounded and lost child. “They thought he would lead them here. Still do, undoubtedly. I told him to leave the file and all of his things in Portland and find somewhere safe to hide out. He’ll be in contact again soon.”

“Do we need to leave? I have other safe houses scattered throughout the…” he began, stopping when she shook her head at his words.

“We’re safe here,” her lips pursed as she finished, “For now. Jarod is too. The Centre won’t try to capture him as long as they think he will show them where we are. They aren’t after him this time.”

“I expected those words to sound a lot more comforting than they just did,” he spoke wryly, removing several bags from the second seat of the chopper. He handed her one from a local shoe store, shifting the other bags into his free hand. “Give those shoes to your brother so he has something to wear other than my socks.”

Nodding without thought, she accepted the bag. “It would be better if I were not here,” Parker commented.

“It would be better if you were,” the Major easily replied, refusing to start the argument he was afraid would give her ammunition to break away from the group.

Sighing with a resignation she had experienced with few people other than her father, her shoulders slumped. “The voices, they keep saying the word ‘illusion’. I don’t know what it means, other than perhaps being the project’s codename.”

“Like Mirage?” Major Charles asked, falling into step beside her as they headed toward the house. At her nod, he continued. “You said yourself they wanted a Pretender with the Inner Sense. Maybe Illusion is just a title that encompasses those roles.”

“Maybe,” Parker spoke pensively, “but I get the feeling this is something big, Major.”

“Bigger than the Centre using DNA from an as-of-yet-unknown male to inseminate you so that you become pregnant without your knowledge or consent?”

Quirking a brow upward, she answered simply, “Yes. I’m just not sure what, yet.”

“There are two kinds of illusions,” Major Charles added, “Those that cover a thing or place or memory with something that we think beautiful or needed. And those that create something where nothing is, an oasis in the desert, for example.”

Miss Parker fought the urge to scuff her toes into the dirt like a child as she felt the frustration build within her, tightening the muscles of her shoulders and back. “I hate this,” she finally voiced, “I’ve lived my entire life with lies disguised as truths and knowing half of the answers. The one decision I should be able to make on my own, whether or not to have a child, who should father the child, what sort of parent I want to be… even that’s been taken away. And then my mother,” her voice raised an octave, “my mother whispers these words in my ear that don’t make any sense on their own, like Jarod’s little clues! I’m tired of the little clues, Major Charles, Jarod’s and my mother’s. I just want to know what to do. I want to sleep without dreaming and go a day without having a red herring arriving at my door. I have never chosen where to live, where to work, what to spend my time doing. The only man who ever loved me was taken because he loved me, just like my mother,” her gaze shifted away from the man beside her and the road she was walking down. Veering to the left, Parker’s eyes settled on the small green patch a few feet away, the small crop of trees and the grass that turned from lush to sparse at her toes. “I want to love this child, and the Centre is doing everything it can to make sure I resent it as much as I do Jarod.” She felt him shift beside her, unsure how to react. The Major’s eyes were fixed on her sad, drawn face as surely as her stare was glued to the grass at her feet. “I wasn’t always like this; it wasn’t always this way.”

Finally breaking into the conversation, the Major’s quiet voice washed over her. “The Centre has changed us all, Miss Parker. But it hasn’t changed you as much as you might think – you are every bit of Catherine Parker, but stronger and wiser, less naïve. You grew up in that place, and it has given you the fighting chance that your mother lacked. When she made the deal with Raines to have Ethan, she signed her death warrant in her own blood. The Centre, Raines, knew you would never agree. The only chance they had to create this illusion, a successful prodigy, was to do it against your wishes.” Pausing, he shifted the bags to his other hand, reaching forward and taking the Footlocker bag from his companion. “You were Jarod’s only friend for a very long time, Parker. In some ways, you were both stunted as children, Jarod moreso than you. He doesn’t know how to deal with that, he doesn’t know how to just give you the information you seek.” This time it was Major Charles that laughed aloud, “Jarod was locked in that place for over three decades. To him, knowledge that is earned on one’s own is the most valuable thing. He doesn’t understand that sometimes it is better to just know things than it is to journey toward learning them. And for all of your confidence and rage, you are still looking to your mother for reassurance and guidance. The only way she has to offer it is with one word clues that point you in the right direction, Parker.”

She did not acknowledge his words, except to relax the tension of her shoulders. “Ethan is trying so hard to help. I get so frustrated that, between us, we can’t figure out what she means. We no longer have access to the Centre mainframe to search for where these clues might lead. Even if we did, it isn’t worth the risk. And Angelo… he’s still in there, at the Centre. It’s the only world he knows but, God, he deserves better.”

The Major dropped his hand on her shoulder. “Why do you get frustrated with Ethan and Jarod, but not with me? Their more annoying traits are probably mine genetically,” his words were teasing, light.

Parker let out a quiet chuckle, acknowledging his attempt at provocation but refusing to rise to it. “You’re something of an objective observer, Major. Outside of the Centre but invested in their actions at the same time.” She shrugged, moving away from him and the patch of green, facing the house for a moment before beginning to walk back toward the others. “The Centre has outdone itself this time, throwing all of us together.”

Again offering her the bag with Ethan’s tennis shoes, he offered her a sad smile. “So it seems, Miss Parker. I’m sure Jarod was certainly flummoxed.”

With genuine laughter, the tall brunette responded, “Oh, Major – you have no idea.”

--

“She’s very angry,” the Major sighed, sitting down hard beside the psychiatrist. He offered the man one of the two mugs he held in his hand, “and frustrated. I don’t know how to help.”

“You seem to be helping her just fine,” Sydney pointed out, sipping at the cocoa. “Perhaps laughter and distraction are the best medicine?”

The other man shook his head, “I don’t know about that, Sydney. I think the unfamiliar environment,” he waved his hand around, indicating the house they were seated in, “seems to have made it worse. Or maybe Jarod made it worse. When I spoke to her today, she was angry at Jarod, at the Centre, at the entire situation. Not that I blame her, this is certainly unlike anything I could have ever imagined, even with knowledge of the Centre’s inner workings. In some ways, I think she is more of a prisoner of the Centre than my son ever was.”

“Miss Parker’s entire life was dictated by the Centre – her mother, her father, Jarod, and now Raines and Lyle – and every step she takes to get away from them is met with a brick wall. She tried to leave once, with Thomas Gates,” the psychiatrist stared down into his mug, his brow furrowed in concentration. “The Centre ordered him killed, sent her father’s wife to assassinate him on her porch. The Centre,” Sydney paused, eyes drifting as he carefully composed his words, “is in some ways all Miss Parker knows, and over the last five years she has been repeatedly faced with the fact that every part of her life has been filled with lies and betrayals. And now, the Centre uses her as a human incubator.”

“You’ve looked through the rest of the file?” The Major queried, leaning forward and hunching over his mug.

“Yes,” Sydney nodded, sighing into the night air. The two men were seated on the back porch, enjoying the coolness of the light breeze and the quiet of the house. The subject of their conversation had long since led the trudge of the house members to their beds. After a few moments of silence, the psychiatrist began again. “When Miss Parker was a little girl, she overheard her mother being beaten in the kitchen of their house by her father. She was able to block it from memory for a great number of years, and when she remembered, initially the only thing she recalled were her mother’s cries for help and the image of Raines leaving the house during a storm, looking up at the window. Mr. Parker and Dr. Raines had been discussing Catherine’s meddling with Timmy – Angelo,” he corrected, “and Mr. Parker was very unhappy. He hit Catherine several times, badly enough that she had to check herself into the emergency room later that night. Miss Parker was able to block the memory but Catherine… Catherine was not. After several days of trying to talk to her, she finally came to my office and told me what had happened. She was angry, frustrated, betrayed. I imagine that is how Miss Parker feels, right now. Like the only thing she has ever known has betrayed her in the ultimate way. She feels as if she was raped, though I am certain she would never word it in that way or even consciously put the thought together.”

Major Charles’ shoulders slumped noticeably, the word hitting him in the gut. “She was, wasn’t she? Knocked unconscious under the guise of medical treatment, had her eggs harvested for medical experiments. When they failed, they simply knocked her out and inseminated her with unidentified donor sperm. If that’s not rape, I don’t know what is.” Pausing, shifting in his seat, he continued. “I think she’s afraid she won’t love the child, and who could blame her?”

Smiling to himself, Sydney continued without a beat of hesitation. “Regardless of the methods of conception, don’t let her fool you – Parker already loves that child more than most could ever imagine. I have met very few people in my life that feel things as strongly and deeply as she does, Angelo and Ethan being the others, sometimes Jarod. Survival at the Centre requires that one know how to shut those emotions down and keep them locked safely away where they cannot be used by those who would twist them to their own advantage. For a long time, the only way Parker let those things out were through drinking, smoking, and sex. After a while – after she met Thomas – even that didn’t work anymore. He taught her to let go, and she found parts of herself I feared lost,” taking a sip of his cocoa, the psychiatrist continued. “She may resent the method of conception, she may be angry that the choice was taken from her, she may be confused about what is happening and what the Centre has planned, but that woman would move hell and high water to protect a child that isn’t even born yet. Remember, she was just as willing to do anything to get Jim out of the Centre and Ethan away from Raines’ clutches.”

Nodding hesitantly, the Major stared out into the darkness. “Do you know what this illusion is?”

Shaking his head slowly, Sydney sighed, “I have spent enough of my time lying to people and covering up Centre secrets. If I had any idea of what they were doing at Donaterase, I would have stopped them. And if I knew what Illusion meant, I would have told Parker the moment she mentioned the word.” Standing to his feet, the man moved slowly toward the screen door. Pulling the door open, he added, “Rest well, Major.”

Setting the mug on the wicker table beside him, Major Charles threw his feet up on the bench and stared into the darkness, swatting at a gnat that flew near his face. He and Margaret had been shattered when Kyle and Jarod were taken, and his wife had never fully recovered. When Emily entered into adulthood, the two of them had gone their separate ways, Margaret with Emily and Major Charles on his own. It would be easier to find Jarod if they were looking from separate locations, they had agreed. But in his heart, he knew that Margaret had never forgiven him for letting Kyle and Jarod be taken away, later for letting Kyle die under the thumb of that place. He had only met Miss Parker once before the day she had shown up at his door, yet he felt the same fear he felt with Margaret when Emily was a young child. Another woman was depending on him to protect an innocent child from the Centre. Except this woman had been betrayed – essentially raped, he corrected, Sydney’s explanation of her behavior fresh in his mind – by the same people they were running from, her own family. Somehow, this seemed so much worse than it had a few days before.

Major Charles shifted upward, stretching his arms above his head. After a short yawn, he pushed the door open and headed for the kitchen table, where he had last see the laptop. Reaching for the pot of coffee he had brewed earlier in the evening, he thought to himself, time to do some research.