Ethan’s eyes scanned the room, taking time to examine each of its occupants. In the last twenty-four hours, the world may as well have shifted on its axis for the differences he could tell not only in each individual, but in the shared dynamic of the group. Four individuals with very different goals had come together to form an alliance with a common purpose. Unfortunately, the purpose was one that had been borne of Centre-driven necessity: the protection of another innocent victim. Whether the victim this time was Parker, his father, or the child the voices told Ethan his sister was carrying, was another matter entirely.

“S…s….safe,” the voices stuttered in his ear as his gaze drifted over the form of his sister. She was curled into a corner of the over-stuffed couch, feet beneath her and a cup of hot tea clasped between her hands. Her gaze was fixed on something no one else could see though her eyes were directed toward the front window. His sister was pregnant. The phrase felt foreign in his mind, almost as strange as knowing she herself had never said the words. The bitterness of the situation was only increased by the knowledge that, in all likelihood, the child was not only his nephew or niece but also his sibling. Another twisted Centre experiment, another victim in the game. Whether the voices were telling him she was safe where she was or to keep her safe he could not discern.

Ethan had watched her unobtrusively from the corner of her eye for several minutes before she released her tight grip on the hot teacup, sliding a hand down her front. As her fingertips spread over her midsection, she sucked in a breath and let it out in a shudder. It shouldn’t have happened this way, he thought, knowing the exact same words were flowing through her mind with more anguish than he could imagine. After a few seconds, she moved her hand to her face and flicked a lock of hair behind her ear, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear her vision. The Centre had taken not only her mother and the man she believed to be the love of her life, not only her childhood and most of her adulthood, but also her choice in whether or not to have a child, who to do it with, and how. Despite her determined countenance and painstaking planning skills, the hurt drifted off of her in waves that he could feel from across the room. The voices may have been instructing him to keep her safe, but Ethan was becoming more concerned about keeping her sane.

For his part, Major Charles, his father, had handled the situation well. Currently he was seated at the counter that separated the living room and kitchen, hunched over the files Miss Parker had brought with her as well as those he had taken the time to compile over the years. Something in this, he had said, must give away some clue as to how to remove Broots, Debbie, and Sydney from beneath the watchful eye of the Centre. What Major Charles wasn’t speaking of, however, was what Ethan knew bothered him the most: Jarod. Keeping him out of the loop would make Jarod feel betrayed, but involving him would go against Parker’s wishes and make her feel betrayed. And betrayal of Parker would involve a bullet between the eyes or, at the very least, her running as far and as fast as she could. If the child she carried was genetically half of the Major, or genetically half of Jarod, he would be damned if he lost yet another opportunity, regardless of the method of conception or the identity of the mother.

Jim, with the alacrity and resilience of childhood, seemed to be handling the situation the best of any of them. After Parker had explained her intentions to the two older men and then later to Jarod’s clone, he had attacked the idea with aplomb. Finding a way to effectively drop Sydney and Broots from the radar would not be that difficult. Doing so without giving away too much information, especially without making Jarod aware of Parker’s location, would be the hard part. After seating himself at the kitchen table with two laptops and a wheeled cart of equipment the other three occupants of the house could not identify, he had announced that Sydney, Broots, and Broots’ daughter Debbie had already essentially removed themselves from the Centre, albeit inadvertently. With Parker’s information on their last known location, he had been able to deduce that they were still at Ben’s inn in Maine. After his announcement, the Major was quick to point out that if Jim could locate the information so quickly, it was likely the Centre could as well. Jim had acknowledged this with a grunt, and the last twenty minutes had been filled with silence broken by the occasional tapping of the boy’s fingers against the keyboard.

Ethan had never felt so tired.

--

“Where… where would Miss Parker go?” Broots asked, from his seated position at Ben’s kitchen table. “I mean, she’s not at the Centre, and she’s not here. At least, I don’t think she’s at the Centre, is she?” His voice rose an octave at the suggestion, and his eyes darted to Sydney.

“Doubtful. She knows we were here. If she were to have returned, our presence would have been requested,” the older man replied from his position against the kitchen counter. All three men glanced to Jarod at the man’s exaggerated sigh.

“She destroyed something the Centre thought very important when she left, if she goes back, they may just kill her. Or keep her long enough to turn her into a vegetative incubator for the newest dirty experiments.”

“What do you mean, she destroyed something important?” Sydney asked, tilting his head sideways and watching Jarod with a contemplative gaze.

“The mainframe, uh, well, there was this memo…” Broots began, hesitating as he glanced at Jarod, whose mouth was now set in a firm line. After a sharp nod from the other man, the computer technician continued, “she, uh, destroyed nearly all the samples in the main cryogenics storage area. Blood, s…semen, even ova. All genetic material that belonged to her, J…Jarod, and his father. Even Angelo’s, some of the other pretenders.”

“The Centre collects genetic material from all of its employees?” Ben interjected.

Grimacing, Sydney took the open seat at the head of the table and folded his arms. “Not knowingly, I’m afraid. They extracted the material from Jarod and Angelo when they were teenagers and preserved it in one of the labs. How they obtained Miss Parker’s…” his voice drifted off.

“Probably her ulcer surgery,” Jarod offered, once again beginning to pace the small space between the kitchen and the dining room.

“As for Major Charles… his sample was taken from a Centre-sponsored fertility clinic called NuGenesis over 35 years ago.”

“But… Sydney, wouldn’t it be, you know, too old?” Broots asked, squirming in his seat.

“The Centre has the newest and best technologies at its disposal, Mr. Broots,” Jarod answered bitterly. “Cryogenically preserved material could theoretically be preserved for over a century without marked degradation. Miss Parker must have gotten wind of the experiments they intended to perform and decided to take care of the problem by destroying everything she thought could be used.”

“B…but how?” Broots asked, “If you didn’t tell her, how did she know? Did they, do you think they, you know?”

After a few moments of silence, Sydney sighed. “I don’t know, Broots,”

“Angelo,” Jarod volunteered, glancing from Sydney to Broots. “CJ.”

“He is your informant,” Sydney stated, finding the realization not particularly surprising. “CJ? Cracker Jack?” Jarod nodded in response, and the psychiatrist sighed again. “Angelo must have learned of their intent and somehow communicated the information to Parker.”

“Unless she found out because they tried something,” Broots interrupted, causing the room to once again fall into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the arrival of his daughter.

“Daddy?” she poked her head into the kitchen. “I know you said to stay upstairs but you have a text message on your phone.”

“A text message?” Broots queried, reaching out to his daughter to take the proffered object. Ben and Sydney sat up straighter in their seats and Jarod stopped in his tracks, as if all four of the men knew it was something that would change the course of not only their evening but their lives.

Broots flipped the phone open and hit the view button. After a moment, he struck several more buttons, then closed it again. “I know where she is.”

“She sent you a message?” Jarod stepped forward, “Let me see it.”

“It was set to self-delete after being opened,” the tech shrugged, “but the message said ‘Tommy’s refuge’. It said for you to meet her there and for the rest of us to go underground until we heard from you. She said it wasn’t safe.”

“Tommy’s refuge?” Sydney leaned his chin into his hand.

“Portland,” Jarod murmured, “She’s right. I know a place where the three of you can go and remain safe for the time being. I’ll head to Portland and meet up with Parker, see if we can come up with some sort of plan to bring the Centre to its knees, or at least keep everyone safe. Let me get in touch with Dad, and he’ll be able to get you to a safehouse.”

“Jarod…” Sydney began, but his only answer was the turning of Jarod’s back as he headed for the stairs.

“Daddy…” Debbie interrupted, “That’s not what the message said. I read it when it came up on your phone.” At her words, Sydney and Ben both turned quickly to stare at Broots.

“She said not to tell Jarod anything, that it wasn’t safe for him to know anything,” he defended, “Miss Parker wouldn’t tell us to do something like that unless it was important.” Turning to Debbie he whispered, “You can’t tell Jarod anything, sweetie. Miss Parker could get hurt if we aren’t very careful.” The girl’s eyes widened and she nodded gravely.

“What did the message say, Mr. Broots?” Ben asked. “I’m assuming it did not say to keep us all in the dark.”

“The message said: ‘Tell J Tommy’s Refuge. Get prepaid cell. Will contact soon. J will send you to own refuge. Go.’”

“Are you sure it’s even from Parker?” Sydney asked, breaking the silence that descended on the kitchen after the message was relayed.

Broots sucked in a breath before letting it out in a deep sigh. “As sure as I am about anything dealing with the Centre.”

--

“The message has been sent,” Jim announced, causing the three adults to return their attention to the current situation. “I have informed your friend Mr. Broots to send Jarod to Portland as you suggested, and to listen to Jarod’s instructions. As soon as he buys a prepaid cell, we’ll be able to contact him. I don’t think it will be necessary, though. Jarod will send them here, though not directly. That is, if he buys the story.”

“He’s too eager to squash the Centre not to try to meet me, even if the terms are a little fuzzy. Too bad,” she interjected.

After a pause, her brother spoke. “He will contact you and request temporary refuge for his friends,” Ethan nodded to Major Charles. “And you will bring them here.”

Miss Parker moved her feet from beneath her, and stood with her cup of lukewarm tea still in her hands. “Let the games begin.”

“This isn’t a game anymore, Miss Parker,” Major Charles stated, his voice honest and low. “There is more at stake now than there ever has been before.” He met her eyes as she walked toward him, placing the teacup beside him on the counter.

“This has been and always will be a game to the Centre,” her words were tired, angry, “it’s just a matter of who figures out the next play first. Jarod once told me that whoever found the answers first lives. Looks like he may have been closer to the point than he realized.” After sparing a moment to meet his eyes, she placed a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave the room. “He’ll contact you soon, Major. Thank you for your help.”

Capturing her wrist in his grasp before she left the room, he again captured her gaze, “It will be okay, Miss Parker. We will figure this out.”

Ethan watched from the table as his father released his half-sister’s wrist as she offered him a sad smile in return. She turned her back to the room and disappeared down the hall, seeking the peace that only sleep could possibly offer her.