Chapter Five

Her mother was pulling the brush through her hair, seated behind her on the bed. Little Miss Parker was sitting on the edge, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The bedroom was not her own, but she felt comfortable there, safe. “Let’s read, Mama.”

The dream shifted as soon as the first words were uttered, her mother’s smiling reflection fading in the mirror. Parker lay curled on her side, arms under the pillow. Her mother sat beside her in the open space left by the bend of her knees.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. I don’t have much time,” Catherine whispered, voice tinged with a sort of desperation her daughter had never before heard.

“I’m listening, Mama. What is it, what’s wrong?” Her own voice had aged from just seconds before, the timbre remarkably like that of her mother’s.

“Some illusions are real,” her mother told her, hand resting against her daughter’s cheek. “Find what is real, find what is not. Be careful, sweetheart.”

“What do you mean? Mama?”

“Listen to me, sweetheart. Secrets and lies, these illusions. Not everything is as it seems. You are real,” her mother’s fingers drifted to her stomach, pressing against the soft flesh. “This is real. Protect this, it’s what they’re looking for.”

“What who is looking for?” Parker pushed herself into a seated position. “Mama, what’s going on?”

“Damned are the souls of those who read the scrolls,” her mother whispered, eyes locked on her own. “Illusions,” her mother’s hand burned against her stomach, the touch searing into her flesh through the fabric of her gown. “Don’t let them take the key or the prophecy will be fulfilled.”

“What prophecy? Mama? Mama, you’re hurting me!” She pressed her mother’s hand away, fighting against the flames of her fingertips. “What illusions? Mama, I don’t understand!”

“You already know the answers.”

“Miss Parker!” Major Charles shook her right shoulder again, watching as she squirmed closer to the edge of the bed, her body curled in on itself. With a jerk, she sat upright, arms wrapped around her middle and eyes owlishly wide. She blinked hard against the low light from the bedside table, eyes fixed on the Major’s face. He was still dressed in the day’s clothes, sleep creasing his features. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table while reading through the websites Jim had bookmarked for him in the days previous. After finally deciding to head downstairs to the bedroom, he had had logged off the laptop and sleepily walked down the hallway. Her cries for her mother pierced his level of semi-consciousness, causing him to sit on the edge of the bed and attempt to urge her awake. “You had a nightmare,” his voice was quiet.

She opened her mouth, trying to form the words to explain. Closing her mouth, she swallowed, then tried again. “My mother,” Parker croaked, “she said things that didn’t make sense, things about illusions. She was hurting me,” her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Hurting you? Miss Parker, Catherine would have never hurt you,” Major Charles’ voice was gentle, yet she still flinched away from his touch when he reached to place his hand on her shoulder.

“I…” she frowned, “No, I know. Her fingers, they were like flames, burning. She was talking about illusions. Saying that they were dangerous, that I knew what the illusions were. But I don’t know what she meant. It’s fuzzier than the premonitions,” Parker’s right hand flipped through the air, “the visions, usually are.”

“Maybe it was just a bad dream, Parker,” Major Charles offered, this time resisting the urge to reach out. Her eyes drifted from his, settling on her left hand, pressing her spread fingers more tightly against her stomach. “If Ethan had the same vision he would probably be in here already.”

“He doesn’t always have the same dreams,” she shrugged, her right hand reaching tentatively across the comforter for his left arm. “I don’t know what she meant, Major,” her expression open and worried as her eyes met his.

“It’s late,” he said after a moment, “Maybe it will make more sense in the morning,” the older man smiled, patting the hand on his arm and pushing himself to a standing position. “Things always look better in the daylight.”

“Stay?” Parker’s tone was like that of a child begging for a reprieve, “I don’t want to sleep. Not yet, not right now.”

Major Charles nodded slightly, cocking his head to the right and crossing his arms. Taking a seat in the chair near the end of the bed, he asked, “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

With a sigh, the brunette pushed herself to a seated position, leaning against the headboard and pulling the comforter higher against her body. She curled the top edge in her fists. “I’m sorry for earlier today, yesterday, whatever it was. The things I said had nothing to do with you.”

“It’s okay, Miss Parker,” Major Charles smile was gentle. “We are all in difficult positions; yours is a little more precarious than most.”

“I’m used to being angry,” she spoke, struggling with the words she could not find a way to voice. “I don’t know why I feel so strange.”

“When Margaret was pregnant with Jarod, she would fly into uncontrollable rages every now and then. Threw a brass statue at me once, then promptly burst into tears,” he shrugged, eyes growing fond, distant, with memory. “That was probably from the hormones.”

Miss Parker did not smile, choosing instead to watch the way his expression shifted, how he seemed to travel back in time to that single moment and relish the time before things changed, before the Centre took over all of their lives. She wondered what that was like, to remember a time before the Centre. Pulling the comforter higher, she crossed her arms over the top and released her clenched fingers.

Major Charles drew in a hesitant breath, expelled it slowly, then stood from the chair. Taking a few steps closer to the bed, he laid a hand near her feet and raised questioning eyes to her face. After receiving a nod, he took a seat on the foot of the bed. “I spoke with Sydney tonight, after you had gone to bed.”

“He’s worried,” Parker replied, nodding her head slowly. “That’s Freud, always has to be worried about something.” The touch of dryness in her tone was affectionate, fueled by the knowledge that Sydney was, and always would be, Dr. Sydney Green.

“It might make him feel better if you would talk to him,” the older man suggested, one corner of his lips quirking upward. “Even if it doesn’t benefit you, that is.” Parker chuckled but did not respond, so he continued. “You’re right, he’s worried about you. He said…” the Major’s voice drifted off.

Her expression was pointed, questioning. “He said what?”

“He wants to help you. He said that what the Centre did to you, harvesting your ova, then inseminating you against your wishes… it’s nothing short of rape, Parker. He is afraid that if you don’t deal with it now, it will eat at you from the inside.”

“I wasn’t raped, Major,” her voice took on a harder edge.

“Weren’t you?” he asked, laying his hand on the part of the comforter covering her ankle.

Turning her face from his gaze, shoulders slumping inward, Parker sighed. “No,” she let out a tired, bitter laugh. “Not really. I guess the invasion is fairly similar but not the intent. I,” pausing, again struggling for the words, “I don’t know. It never struck me that way. The Centre, what they did, what Raines had them do,” she slid her hand lovingly across her stomach, “it was with the specific purpose of creating a child, this child. And despite all of that,” she waved her free hand in the air toward him, “Despite all of that, I love it. I’ll do anything to protect it from the Centre, and from these illusions, whatever they are.”

Catching her hand, Major Charles offered a cautious smile, “I know that, Parker. We all do. We just worry that in the process, you’re not going to take care of you. That child will need its mother.” He didn’t add the words that came to mind, especially since we don’t know if it even has a father.

Parker nodded into a yawn, spurring him to stand once again and push gently on her shoulders. “Speaking of which, you really do need to rest. I’ll stay until you fall asleep, but you have to promise me you’ll speak with Sydney. I think it would be beneficial to both of you.”

She nodded once again, grasping the covers in her hands and pulling them up to her chin as she curled on her opposite side. “Thank you, Major.”

He patted her shoulder once more, then again took his seat, letting his mind wander until she fell asleep.

--

Breakfast was both quiet and early. Most of the occupants of the house had fallen asleep early, exhausted by their urgent travel and settlement into their new, but temporary, home.

“Where’s Miss Parker?” Debbie asked, seated beside Jim at the table, the two young teenagers digging into bowls of cold cereal. The girl had giggled when her counterpart had insisted they try Fruity Pebbles. Her initial protest was founded on the belief that she had long ago outgrown the sugary cereal, but she quickly gave way when his face flooded with sadness.

“Probably still asleep. Women in her condition need more sleep than we do,” Jim answered as he chewed. Frowning, he continued, “What about Dad?”

“Fast asleep,” Ethan answered, entering the kitchen from the hallway. “I heard them talking last night, they must have fallen asleep late,” he shrugged, snatching a bowl from the counter before pausing to examine the cereal selection.

Broots, seated across from his daughter, glanced to the man on his left, “Ethan, do you think Jarod will call back?”

The dark man nodded, pouring cereal slowly into his bowl. Tapping the box on the side of the counter as he closed it, he added, “Yes. Soon.”

“Did… did the voices tell you that?” Broots asked, brow furrowed in concentration. The theory behind heightened perception had always fascinated him, but the exact mechanisms through which the siblings received information was more of a puzzle than a science.

“Not exactly, Mr. Broots. It’s more of a sense, just… just something I know. It only works with certain people, those I am close to like Jarod and my sister.”

“Miss Parker can too,” Debbie interjected, “She always knows when I’m having a bad dream.” After a pause, she frowned, “I wish I could do that.”

“We all have gifts, Debbie,” Sydney replied, catching her father’s panicked expression from the corner of his eye. “Miss Parker’s is just different than most.”

“If that ain’t the truth,” Parker drawled, walking quietly into the room. The dry tone of voice did not match her appearance. Broots drew in a sharp breath, taking note of the red flannel shirt she wore over her jeans and long sleeved shirt.

“Miss Parker!” Jim greeted as Debbie smiled around her spoon, “Would you like some cereal?”

“No thank you, Jim,” her smile was a little wan as she pulled out a chair, slipping into it before sliding her hands through her hair and leaning her elbows on the table.

“Bad night?” Sydney asked gently, noticing the way she had pulled Thomas’ shirt tight around her as she entered the room, the drawn look upon her face.

“Nightmares, visions, I can’t tell them apart anymore,” she sighed, rolling her face against her right hand to gaze at her psychiatrist friend. “Did you see anything, Ethan, in your sleep?”

Her brother shook his head, dropping his spoon back into his bowl. “I don’t always see the things you do, sister. Only sometimes. It’s possible our mother is trying to tell you something that I’m not receptive to, in theory at least.”

Rolling the thought through her mind, Parker frowned. “I don’t know, Ethan. My dreams, visions, they tend to be tied to memories. I know my first dream was of Mama.” Sydney studied the confusion that etched across her face as she spoke of her mother, unsure as to its origin. “After that, they don’t make any sense. And I don’t remember anything, not really.”

“Maybe they were just dreams?” Ben suggested, wiping his hands off at the sink. Newly cleaned dishes were stacked next to him on the counter.

“You’re probably right, Ben,” she offered him a smile.

“So, Miss Parker, what is on the agenda for today?” Sydney queried over the rim of his coffee mug, trying to look as casual as possible about her response.

“We need to find a way to access the Centre mainframe from here. A way that won’t have sweepers here within the hour. I want to know more about this Illusion project, anything you can find,” she spoke, eyes flitting between Broots and Jim. “Jim, I’d appreciate your help covering our tracks. You two may be able to help each other. If anyone knows their way around the Centre mainframe, it’s Broots.”

Blushing from the praise, Broots nodded to the boy. “We’ll have to design a secure connection and decrypt the daily passphrase, then access the Blue Cove main frame.” Frowning to himself, he noted, “This would be a lot simpler and more secure if we had access to a blue box.”

“Blue box?” Ethan asked, swallowing a mouthful of corn pops.

“Each Centre office has its files backed up on a blue box that is encrypted. Every Friday night, each Centre office backs up its files into the Mainframe. If we could gain access to a blue box, then reach the storage facility and decode the information, we could see everything in all of the mainframe until the codes are re-encrypted. That means everything from every computer the Centre is connected to, not just the permanent files stored in the mainframe or the files transmitted each week,” the computer technician explained.

“That’s what Lyle stole the blue box for, years ago. If he decrypted the codes and sold the chip, whoever had the blue box could access everything…” Parker thought, “He never intended to sell that blue box, did he?” The rhetorical question hung in the air for several moments, until she continued, easing to her feet slowly. “Broots…”

“I know, I know. We have to steal a blue box and sneak it into the closest storage facility at 11:59pm on Friday,” Broots groaned into his orange juice.

Chuckling, Miss Parker stepped carefully toward the counter, still trying to assure her body that she would make no sudden movements to incur the wrath of nausea she had avoided. The people seated around the table, their mere presence and proximity, eased her frayed nerves. Though Tommy’s shirt was still comforting, it did not seem as necessary. “Actually,” her eyes filled with mischief, “I was going to ask you what the best way to approach this would be. Clearly, the question was unnecessary. First, we need to find out what the nearest, least occupied Centre satellite office is. After that, we find a way to disable the surveillance system, temporarily incapacitate the employees, and steal the blue box.”

“If we replace it with another system,” Jim interjected, “we could set it up so they would not know we had taken the original blue box. Perhaps even design a mechanism that would allow us to access the newly backed up information as it is encrypted and uploaded.”

“Or manipulate the information,” Ethan smiled at his brother, knowing a plan was already formulating in the young Pretender’s mind.

“I thought the information couldn’t be decrypted?” Parker asked.

“If we gain access to the blue box and can copy the original codes, then the decrypted codes after a trip to the main storage facility… we can probably crack it. Nothing is truly random when it comes to computers,” Ethan replied, grinning at his sister. “Raines trained me to decrypt and encrypt Centre codes. It’s how I knew to change the path of the subway train in DC.”

His sister flinched at his words, momentarily flashing back to the image of Ethan and Jarod on the train, her gun trailed on them as they bounded toward the front of the train. The two slices of bread in her right hand fell to the countertop as Angelo’s voice sliced through her mind.

“Illusions… are real. Mirages… are real.” Ethan leapt from his seat, rounding the corner of the counter and planting his hands on his sister’s sides as her hands raised to her temples.

“I’m fine, Ethan,” she batted his hands away from her, offering a small smile at his concerned expression. Firmly, she planted her feet against the internal urge to wobble. There was a thought niggling at the back of her mind, fighting to break loose, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “This information we’re looking for, it’s not going to be easy to find. It won’t be obvious. I think,” she frowned, not noticing Ethan’s hand as it clasped around her to steady her. “I think it has to do with all of us.” After a pause, her eyes settled on Sydney’s confused face. “Not all of us,” she used her free hand to drop the bread into the toaster and lower the lever. “Ethan, Jarod, Angelo, me. The scrolls,” Parker’s words trailed off as Major Charles slipped into the kitchen, rounding behind the counter near where she and Ethan were standing. “This has something to do with the Vespatian Scrolls. My mother,” her eyes drifted to Ethan’s, moving her arm from his grasp, “Our mother… I think she read them, Ethan. I think she’s trying to tell us something about the scrolls.”