“What?”

“So what do you think they said?”

“The scrolls?”

“I was hoping you had some answers. Insights into the so-called prophesies.”

“Those answers are somewhere in the ocean along with my fa…Do you think that there’s any chance that he bailed for the right reasons, Jarod? Or…or was his Geronimo just another one of his lies.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s time you gave yourself that gift he never gave you. The truth.”

“I hope you find your mother.”

“And what about…us?”

“You run. I chase. That choice was made for us a long time ago.”

“Maybe that is the Parker curse.”

“Yeah. Hell of a life we have here, Jarod.”

“Only this time, the first one to find the answers, lives.”

“Jarod, the prophesies, if they were real…maybe….we could’ve find out what our future would hold.”

“If they’re real.”

The Centre, SL – 8, 10:15 a.m.

Mercifully the screeching wail of the alarm finally disconnected with a last disconcerted moan. In the sudden silence the faint ringing in his ears continued for a minute longer before it too faded into silence. He continued down the corridor again, silent and efficient, even though he still hurt enough to be aware of his injuries. They would slow him down in a fight but he had no choice now. This was their one chance to escape. He didn’t want to take the risk of being separated from her any longer. His fear that Lyle could just make her death a nightmarish reality was foremost in his mind and he needed that peace of mind right now of seeing her, holding her and knowing that she was out of her brother’s reach.

Forcing his overactive mind to suppress his fears so that he could concentrate on what he was currently doing, he tried another door, grimacing slightly when it didn’t open. Doubling back to the junction, he turned left, aware that his time was running out. It wouldn’t be long before the sweepers were down to this level and he had to be gone before then.To make matters worse, the very next door, which Jarod thought was the one Angelo had told him about, was also locked tight.Forced onwards, he tried two more doors before the third one finally opened.

It was an old supply room, the smell musty from disuse. It was also the room he had been searching for. The light switch didn’t work and he had to leave the door open so that the corridor light could enter the room. The room was dark, the shadows somehow sinister and menacing in the grey, diffused light that managed to filter through the door. His scalp prickling, he listened closely for any indication that the sweepers were close before he entered the room.

Jarod found what he was searching for at the back of the room, amongst the dust and cobwebs that had settled there. Trying to ignore the cloying feel of the dust on his skin, breathing lightly through his mouth, he picked it up. It was an old key, oddly shaped. He had known of its existence but never exactly where until Angelo had revealed it to him. Closing his fist around it, the Pretender started towards the door and the open corridor beyond that. Where they were going, the key would be needed. It was their way out of the lower levels.

Retracing his steps, he stretched his senses for the smallest sound that would alert him of the presence of any sweepers.

It wouldn’t do to get caught now.

He had just passed the first junction when Jarod thought he heard the faint scratch of metal against metal. At the same moment, movement in the corridor ahead of him caught his eye. The briefest shift of dark material against the grey wall. It was unmistakeable in what it meant to Jarod’s heightened senses as the sweeper turned into the hallway, eyes wide in surprise when he saw the Pretender standing before him.

Jarod flung himself into the nearest room as the scream to stop echoed around him. He slammed the door shut, managing to turn the key before the first body pounded against the entrance. He crossed the room, heart thudding in unison with the sounds from the door, searching for another exit. Another door, almost concealed behind an old wardrobe drew his attention.Managing to shift the wardrobe enough to get to the doorknob, the pretender slipped through the portal just as he heard the door burst open in the room he had just left.

Jarod could smell his own fear as he frantically looked around the room. He spotted a row of washing machines set against the wall; dust thick on the surface of the dull, white washers. It took two heaves before he toppled one of the heavy machines against the door. A moment later, a fresh wave of thuds pounded against the door. He could hear the grunts and swearing of the sweepers and knew little time remained to find a way out.

Palms sweaty, his eyes scanned the room. A square opening, dark against the wall drew his attention. It was a decrepit laundry chute and better yet it was his way out.

Meanwhile, the door behind him continued to heave and shake. There was a resounding crash and then the loud swearing of one of the sweepers.

The Pretender made his way across the room. The shaft disappeared upwards into darkness, steel staples of the service ladder embedded against one wall. Not wasting anymore time, he ducked into the chute and started up the rungs. His ribs ached, making it hard to breath. Pushing the pain away in some distant corner, Jarod focused all his strength on climbing. Halfway up he found the familiar square grid of the cover plate that led towards the air vents. Balancing himself as much as he could, he reached for the panel.

Having been painted over for decades, the screws didn’t want to budge. Hands shaking, he wiped them on his pants before trying again with a makeshift piece of metal he had found earlier. Echoing up the chute, he heard what was by now an all too familiar noise and the screech of metal, when the washing machine he had toppled against the door was shifted a few inches.

The sudden silence that followed was more disconcerting than the previous attempts at the entrance to the room. A moment later he heard a loud screech and shouts of triumph. Footsteps sounded and then the diffuse light which had, until now, filtered upwards, was cut off. Bright light replaced it, forcing Jarod to blink against the torch light shining in his eyes.

“I see him!”

The exclamation ricocheted around him. Mouth dry, stomach tightening, Jarod turned back to the panel and managed to slide the last screw out as another warning to cease and desist reverberated past him. Ignoring the command, he dropped the vent cover. There was a scream of frustration and anger as he slid into the vent. It was a tight fit, his ribs protesting. He couldn’t ignore the pain anymore, couldn’t breathe.

His vision blurred, threatened to plunge him into unconsciousness. He leaned his forehead against the metal. Concentrated on breathing. On getting enough air into his lungs, pushing past the pain that excruciatingly stabbed his ribcage with each intake of breath. As if from far away, he heard the shuffle of shoes against metal and knew on some distant plane he was running out of time. He had to move.

He took another breath and then slowly, agonizingly, he started forward. The horizontal shaft split after 30 feet in a T-formation and without pausing, he went left. Barely a yard further, the shaft came to another fork. Bundled lines of cable brushed his shoulders, thick and black. He followed the path of the cables, losing the sweepers in the maze of tunnels. Breathing too hard, he willed himself to calmness, knowing that the chase was far from over.

It was just beginning.

The Centre, Security room, 10:15 a.m.

“Post sweepers at all exits,” Lyle ordered the man in charge of security whose name he had never bothered to learn. “Initiate lockdown procedures.”

As the harriedman hollered instructions in his walkie-talkie, another sweeper turned to Lyle, his confusion obvious for all to see. “Mr. Lyle, we just lost cameras on SL-3 to SL-8. It looks like he’s moving towards the lower levels.”

“Are they together?” Lyle demanded. His missing thumb ached, reminding him of his past failure in regards to Jarod. .

“We don’t know, Sir. We’re losing systems before getting visuals.”

Lyle stared over his shoulders at the monitors right as another one blinked out and changed to static. “Seal off all the elevators. I want sweepers on sublevels 8 to 10 to block off all access to the stairways and air vents.”

“We’ve just lost all cameras on SL-9,” somebody told him.

Frustrated, Lyle slammed his right hand into the wall next to him. He ignored the sweeper’s furtive glances that were thrown his way. He wasn’t about to allow Jarod and Miss Parker to escape. And not after the stunt the Pretender had pulled when he had sent him to an old, disused house set in the middle of nowhere in rural Maryland. Snow heaped against the front door had been his first clue that the information Jarod had so readily provided had been false. No Gemini and no Major Charles.

The Pretender was going to pay for that mistake. Lyle was going to make sure of it.

“I want the sweepers fully armed. If anyone tries to leave this building, they have my authorization to shoot and if Jarod resists, kill Miss Parker.”

The Centre, SL – 9, 10:30 a.m.

“This way.”

Jarod froze, his heart beating triple time as the voice of one of the sweepers echoed around him. That was the problem with the vents; they distorted sound enough for him to make it difficult to pinpoint the origin. He tightened his hold on the key, feeling the edges of it cut into his palm. The desperation was there, bubbling just underneath the surface. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t keep his fear at bay as he forced himself to wait in what felt like the twilight zone of the tunnel he was currently situated. He tightly supported his ribs with every breath. Knees close to his face, he hunched against them as he continued his vigil.

He blinked against the sweat that was steadily dripping down his face. Too afraid to move to wipe it off, he watched it drip onto his pants, feeling the dark material soak in the liquid. The loud crack of metal snapping back into position had him jerking his head around as he tried to probe the tunnel for any movement. Small, faded squares of light that escaped through the grates fell in-between the darkness, but he couldn’t see anyone.

His chest tightened enough for him to remember to take a breath. Wiping his lips, he gathered his courage and decided that the sweepers were somewhere else in the maze of tunnels. Taking another slow breath, he uncurled his body and started down the passageway, stopping and listening every few feet for any indication that his hunters were any closer to his position than they had been previously.

Ten agonizing minutes later, he paused just short of the grates that led to the room he had been aiming for. He heard no sound and he peered cautiously through the grate. There wasn’t much to see, a discarded file cabinet, rust streaks marring the surface and an old ornate oak desk, dusk thick upon its surface. Satisfied, he took his impromptu screwdriver and twisted quickly until all four screws were in his hand.

Jarod slipped through into the dimly lit room, careful to put the grate back and screw it tight again. He ignored the intense pain in his chest, aware that his ribs weren’t doing to well with the exercise he was currently putting them through. But it couldn’t be helped. They had to get out of the Centre.

He found her exactly where he had left her, seated against the wall behind the desk, her eyes closed, her breathing as shallow as his. With his heart in his throat, Jarod kneeled beside her and reached out a hand to smooth back her damp hair from her forehead. Startled by his touch, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. “What?”

He tried to hide his concern behind a smile and a moment later realised that it wasn’t working. “It’s time to leave.”

Refusing his help, Miss Parker rose slowly to her feet. A sound from the air vent above them had them frozen against the wall. They waited, listening for any other sounds. When no further noise came, Jarod sighed in relief. He put an arm around Miss Parker and together they started for the exit and hopefully a clear way towards their destination.

The Centre, Security room, 10:30 a.m.

“All cameras on SL-10 are down.”

Lyle glared at the sweeper that had just told him the news, fuming in impotent rage at the Pretender. The deeper Jarod and Miss Parker moved into the sub levels, the less chance they’d have of finding them quickly. He needed to change the game plan to be more in his favour.

“Shut off all the lights from SL – 8 and downwards.”

The sweeper glanced up at him, protest dying on his lips when he noticed the look on Lyle’s face. Without a word he complied.

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:00 a.m.

Jarod took hold of Miss Parker and helped her down the corridor. Somewhere, midway down the hall, he stopped when he thought he had heard something. It had sounded like the familiar squawk of a walkie-talkie with the faint scuff of a shoe on concrete. A tense minute later, he wondered if he had heard it at all as they continued their stumbling down the dimly lit semi-darkness, his palms sweaty from his own fear that they’d be found before he could reach their destination.

“Jarod…….”

Her whisper was soft, plaintive and pain-filled and it brought his attention immediately.

“Don’t talk. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

She nodded, but her eyes mirrored his own fears. That they wouldn’t be strong enough, that their injuries would put a stop in their flight before it had even really begun.

“Jarod…”

This time he felt her stumble even though he was trying to support her as much as possible. He felt her get heavy in his grip. His ribs protested and he turned towards her, trying to catch her from slipping completely from his hold. And at that moment, the lights flashed, went out and left them in fearful, mind-numbing darkness.

The Centre, Security room, 11:00 a.m.

“Last position reported?”

“SL – 9, sir.”

Lyle nodded, he didn’t care except for finding Jarod and his dear sister and making them pay. The weight of Parker’s gun was sitting in the small of his back, reminding him how close he had come to breaking Jarod fully.

Coming to a decision, he gave short instructions before leaving the security room. With Parker’s gun in his hand, he began his hunt.

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:01 a.m.

Silence and absolute darkness surrounded them. The distant beat of the huge blades that circulated air through the lower levels reverberated around the halls. The groan of metal settling sounded loud in the silence. Jarod swallowed, forcing his thumping heart to still. He stretched out a hand and met warm flesh. Miss Parker’s breathing was shallower, her body radiating heat. He found a limp wrist and a moment later a weak pulse beneath his tender fingers. He swore softly under his breath, overwhelmed and at his wit’s end.

Jarod was very much aware that for once he had no idea what to do.

The Centre, SL – 1, 11:05 a.m.

Sydney grabbed Lyle as the man passed him, stopping him in his tracks.

“I want to know what’s going on, Lyle.”

Lyle looked at Sydney’s hand around his arm, anger evident in the silent set of his jaw muscle.

“Not now, Syd.”

Sydney narrowed his eyes, concern for Jarod and Miss Parker suddenly very real. “I can help.”

Lyle gave a short bark of laughter before lifting an eyebrow in question, “Really?”

Sydney nodded, still assessing Lyle silently, aware that his scrutiny was returned. “Jarod will listen to me. There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.”

Lyle smiled. “So, the coddling continues, Sydney. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

“You are making a mistake, Lyle,” Sydney said smoothly, turning aside to let Lyle pass, his suspicions confirmed, “Jarod knows the Centre better than anyone.” Sydney watched Lyle turn the corner before striding purposefully to his office.

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:10 a.m.

It was the hardest thing he had to do in his life but he couldn’t see any other way around their current predicament. He brushed back her hair and leaned down, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead.

I’ll be back, I promise.

He had to force himself to move away from her, his hand against the wall to guide him in the pitch darkness. The complete darkness was reminiscent of an old pretend when he helped Rachel adjust to her blindness after the rooftop explosion took her eyesight. He counted his steps, aware that with each one he was moving further away from her. It couldn’t be helped; he needed to find a light source first.

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:30 a.m.

On some level Miss Parker was aware that Jarod had left her alone again. She couldn’t find the energy to protest, couldn’t find energy to move. The floor was cold, the wall not much better. Muscles cramped, reminding her that she was far from healed. Hell, even that idiot dwarf Jarod had used once to send her on her own golden road to find the wizard could topple her with a finger.

Angry now, she opened her eyes to darkness and for one brief panicky moment thought she had gone blind. She lay quietly, taking short, shallow breaths as her heart slowed down and the knot in her stomach began to dissipate

She forced herself to move into a sitting position, her back against the wall, swallowing against the sudden nausea and loss of equilibrium that assailed her. Not moving, she waited for the feelings to dissipate, for the dizziness and pain to fade.

It didn’t.

And then Lyle found her.

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:30 a.m.

The sweeper never knew what had hit him. Jarod caught him as he went down, easing him towards the floor. The torch rolled, its beam throwing a wide beam of light in the darkness of the corridor. Grimacing, Jarod glanced the way the sweeper had come, listening for any indication that he had been heard. Silence continued and he took the torch and walkie-talkie.

A moment later he was on his way back to where he had left Miss Parker.

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:32

Miss Parker shivered. The gun barrel was cool against her skin and she was very much aware that her death was a finger’s twitch away. She was reminded of red rock and the insanity of her whole situation hit her between the eyes.

“Did you really think you could escape me?”

She mentally rolled her eyes at Lyle’s question. Idiot. What did he think? That they’d never take the chance when it presented itself. Her brother’s body was flush against her back, his arm across her throat, keeping her upright and in check. And then there was the gun, gauging a hole in her neck. She blinked against the darkness and tried not to sag too much. She didn’t want Lyle to know how weak she really felt, that she was pouring all of her strength into just staying conscious.

“No sound, sis or I shoot him as soon as I see him.”

“He’s not coming back.” Her voice was throaty and sounded weak in her own ears. Not at all what she had planned but it couldn’t be helped. Lyle’s breath was warm against her ear and she could feel him smile in the darkness.

“Tut tut, Parker. It’s never nice to tell lies, especially when its family.” She felt him shift, his cheek coming to rest against hers. She started to shift to put some distance between them when the warning of a barrel being dug deeper into her skin put a stop to it. “I think Jarod is prepared to die for you, don’t you? So, guess that begs the question, are you prepared to die for him?”

Icy fingers ran up her back and her stomach tightened painfully. Lyle’s statement was ambiguous enough, warning her that her psychotic brother could easily kill Jarod and damn the consequences.

“The Triumvirate…”

“Shush, relax, Parker. I’m not gonna kill lover boy.” Lyle paused, his one hand creeping up, muffling her when the faint glow of light started to show against the darkness.

“All this will be over soon,” he breathed. Releasing a stifled cry, she started to struggle against his hold. She heard a low, throaty chuckle and then abruptly, her oxygen was cut off as his hand not only covered her mouth but her nose as well. She bucked against him, her body screaming for air. Pain, exhaustion and something close to panic took hold of her senses. She didn’t want to die, not yet. .

Not ‘til she had a chance to kill Lyle.

The cold, sick weakness of shock entered as she realised that Lyle wasn’t letting up. That he was about to kill her. Her lungs burned even as the torch light became brighter. Instinct ruled her now but even that wasn’t enough to escape Lyle’s hold. She was too weak from her injuries to effectively fight back.

Bastard.

That was her last conscious thought before she mercifully passed out.

“Tell me about love, momma…”

They were sitting underneath a tree, the sun speckled light through the branches. Her eyes closed, she felt the breeze against her skin, soft and soothing.

“Will I ever find somebody to love, like you found daddy?”

She opened her eyes. Her mother’s answer echoed somewhere in the back of her mind. She wasn’t afraid like she had been in her dreams. She knew her mother was close.

“But how will I know when I’m in love?”

She rose and looked around. She was a little girl again, her hair loose. The tombstone from her nightmare was missing, instead daffodils had replaced it.

“I hope the man I fall in love with make me feel light-headed.”

She looked up and in the distance she saw her mother waiting for her.