Chapter 26

            Jarod quietly entered through the back door of Miss Parker’s house and surprised Broots, who was nervously pacing in the living room. 

            “Oh!” he exclaimed upon seeing Jarod.  “Y-you…you’re…”

            “Didn’t Sydney call you?”

            “Yes, but, but to actually s-see you standing right here in front of me!  This is amazing!  The cryonics actually worked!” 

            “Broots, that’s not-”

            “Do you know what this means?  If people can be brought back from the dead?”  Broots was quickly warming to the subject.  “When the Centre successfully cloned you, I thought that was incredible, but this… this is like no other scientific breakthrough!  This will change life – and death – as we know it!  Of course, the Centre will probably keep this accomplishment under wraps like they did with Gemini, but just the fact that the cryonics process has finally worked means that some reputable scientist will also figure it out sooner or later.  I mean, wow!”

            It had been a while since he’d been subject to Broots’ babbling, but he was already wondering how Sydney and Miss Parker put up with it day after day.  Right now he didn’t have time for it.  “Broots, stop!  The cryonics didn’t work, because I was never really dead.”

            Disappointment and confusion clouded Broots’ features.  “But then how…?”

            “It’s a long story.  For another time,” Jarod added quickly.  “Where’s Miss Parker?”

            “In the kitchen.  She was really quiet on the drive over here.  Sydney thinks she might be in shock.”  Broots paused.  “Seeing you won’t help.”

            “I know, but we have no choice.  She needs to get out of town.  It’s a good bet the Centre will have surveillance on you and Sydney, but they won’t be expecting a dead man to be her traveling companion.”

            “That’s true,” Broots said reluctantly.  “They never suspected that you and I had teamed up that time I had to go on the run from the Centre.  Heck, I never would have expected we’d do something like that.”  He gave a nervous laugh that became a cough.  “But I think we worked well together, don’t you?”

            Jarod sighed inwardly at Broots’ clumsy attempt to verify his identity.  He understood the need to do so, but he really didn’t have time for this right now.  He quickly offered what Broots was looking for.  “Yes, because of our mutual respect for each other.  That’s why I helped you and you didn’t turn me in to the Centre after Damian shot me.”

            As much as he ever could, Broots appeared to relax.

            “I need your help now, Broots,” Jarod went on.  “I have to get Miss Parker out of here before any Sweepers show up, but I have a feeling she’s going to need some convincing.  While I’m talking to her, can you do me a favor and pack a bag for her?  Just a couple changes of clothing; we can pick up anything else she might need on the road.”

            “Oh, sure, sure, I, I can do that.”  But Broots looked hesitant.  “I guess I’ll have to go in her bedroom.  She’s not going to like me going through her things.”

            “We can’t worry about that right now,” Jarod said impatiently.  “We need to keep her safe.  Get moving!”

            Not waiting to see if Broots followed instructions, Jarod headed for the kitchen but had his own moment of doubt on the threshold of the room.  Not knowing exactly how Miss Parker would react to seeing him alive but suspecting it was not going to go smoothly, he took a deep breath before stepping through the doorway.

            She stood by the island in the center of the spacious kitchen, her back to him.  Without turning around, she set her glass of Scotch down on the granite countertop surface and said wearily, “Broots, I don’t care what Sydney says, I don’t need a babysitter.”

            Then she turned to face him.

            At first glance, she looked the same as ever – dressed in her usual provocative business suit of blazer, mini skirt, and high heels – but when he looked closer, he could see the fatigue in the shadows under her eyes that her make-up couldn’t quite hide. 

            Jarod felt like he was back in that stifling warehouse loft.  Only this time Miss Parker was the one whose eyes widened in shock as someone who wasn’t supposed to be there appeared right in front of her.  He still regretted her arrival that day; that hadn’t been part of the plan.  She’d been the last person he’d wanted to see then.  He just hoped she didn’t feel the same way now.

            Miss Parker finally broke eye contact to fling an accusing glance at her drink, as if blaming the alcohol for the anomaly she was seeing.

            “You’re not hallucinating,” Jarod said.

            She flinched at the sound of his voice.  Hands fisted against the edge of the island in front of her, and without looking at him, she said tightly, “No, you’re not Jarod.  Jarod is dead.  I saw him die.”

            “I know,” he said quietly, feeling a stab of guilt.  “I promise I’ll explain everything, but we don’t have time right now.  You need to leave before the Centre sends a Sweeper team after you.”

            “The Centre!”  She swung a wild look his way.  “That’s it!  They did this!  They made another clone.  You’re just an earlier version or maybe one with an accelerated growth rate or something…  Broots.  Broots would know.”  She took a step forward.

            Jarod automatically moved to block her exit from the kitchen.  Eyes flashing, she reached for her gun but came up with only an empty holster.  She stared down at it in confusion for a moment then said slowly, “Sydney took my gun.  Damn it!”  She flung the leather holster onto the island.

            Jarod kept his voice as calm as possible.  “I thought we’d gotten past the point when you felt the need to draw your gun on me.”

            Again, she wouldn’t look at him as she replied, “I wouldn’t pull my gun on Jarod.  But you’re not Jarod.  I don’t know who – or what – you are.”

            It was taking all of his willpower not to pull her into his arms and show her that he was the same man who’d kissed her in the elevator, the same man who’d suggested she run away with him.  But there was no time!

            “Please, Miss Parker.  You’re in danger if you stay here.”

            She gave him a cynical look.  “So you’re here to rescue me?  No thanks.”  Her voice was edged with bitterness.

            As she turned away once more and reached for her drink, Jarod made a decision.  He had to get her out of here!  He quickly stepped up behind her and placed his hand on the side of her neck, applying just enough pressure at just the right spot.  She slumped in his arms and he carefully lowered her unconscious body to the hardwood floor.

            “Whoa!”

            Jarod looked up to find Broots watching in shock from the doorway.  “What did you do?” the techie asked as he hurried into the kitchen.

            “What I had to,” Jarod said grimly.  “She wasn’t going to come with me willingly.  Don’t worry, she’ll be fine,” he added.

            Broots looked somewhat relieved and slightly awed.  “Was that the Vulcan neck pinch?” he asked eagerly.

            “The what?”  Jarod shook his head.  “Never mind.  Are those Miss Parker’s things?” he asked, gesturing to the tote bag in Broots’ hands.

            “Yes, I wasn’t sure what to pack…”

            “I’m sure that will be fine.”  Jarod fished Miss Parker’s cell phone out of the pocket of her blazer and deposited it up on the island.  He doubted the Centre had a tracking device installed on her personal phone, but there was no reason to take any chances.

            “Time to get going.”  He took the bag from Broots then carefully gathered Miss Parker into his arms and stood up slowly.

            Broots followed him to the back door and held it open for him.  As Jarod stepped outside, he said, “You take care of her, okay?”

            Surprised by the fierceness he heard in his voice, Jarod looked back.  Broots met his gaze unflinchingly, all trace of nerves gone from his face.

            “I will,” Jarod solemnly promised.

            She was in a moving vehicle.

            Miss Parker could tell that much without having to open her eyes.  The feel of the seat belt across her chest and the whine of the tires on the roadway were two big clues.  The fact that they were moving at a rapid speed in a straight line suggested they were on the highway.

            She could also tell that she hadn’t been blindfolded, so there was no need to piece together clues to determine where she was; all she had to do was open her eyes.

            So why did the thought of doing so fill her with dread?

            Because she was afraid of what she’d see, or more precisely, whom she’d see.

            But Miss Parker was not going to start being a coward now.  She cracked her left eye open and stole a sidelong glance at the driver.

            It was Jarod.

            So it hadn’t been a dream.  Shutting both eyes tightly again, she wished she was still asleep.  The real world was making no sense.  Jarod was alive, Lyle was dead, and she was on the run from the Centre.  With all three life-changing events taking place in the space of a few hours, was it no wonder she felt so disoriented?

            Despite the stream of air conditioning aimed at her, she suddenly felt flushed and queasy.  “Stop the car,” she said.

            “Miss Parker, we have to keep going,” Jarod said.  He didn’t sound at all surprised that she was awake; so much for her pretending skills.

            “Stop the car!” she said, adding with greater urgency as her stomach heaved, “I’m going to be sick!”

            Jarod immediately pulled over onto the narrow shoulder of the highway.  Miss Parker threw open her door and stumbled out of the vehicle.  She staggered a few feet before sinking to her knees and retching into the sun-seared scrub grass growing on the hillside.  It was only dry heaves, and she dimly realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

            Jarod squatted a short distance away.  “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

            Miss Parker sat back on her haunches and shoved a few sticky strands of hair out of her face.  “Alright?” she echoed sourly.  “I was just knocked out and abducted by a thawed-out zombie, I have no idea where I am, and oh, yes, before that I shot and killed my own brother.”

            Jarod said nothing, just handed her a bottle of water.  She took a sip and, when her stomach didn’t rebel, followed that up with a more generous swallow.  She knew he wasn’t amused by the way she’d recapped the day’s events, but she didn’t care.  Sarcasm had always served her well when she was trying to hide her true feelings.  Right now she felt dangerously close to tears, but she refused to break down in front of this man, original Jarod or not.

            He finally said, “I’m sorry I had to knock you out, but I didn’t have time to convince you to come with me.” 

            Her hand strayed to the side of her neck.  “What the hell did you do to me anyway?” 

            “Pressure point.  I was a massage therapist once.”

            Of course he was.  She had to admit it was a pretty painless way of being rendered unconscious; she wondered if she could get him to teach her that trick.  After another sip of water, she asked, “Where are we going?”

            “Some place safe.”

            Miss Parker stifled a sigh.  “That’s the Jarod I know,” she muttered, “typically cryptic.”

            “So you no longer believe I’m a ghost or a clone?”

            He spoke lightly, but she could tell he wanted more than a flip response.  The problem was she didn’t know how to answer.  She’d realized that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination or some warped copy created in a secret Centre lab, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit that out loud.  She didn’t want Jarod to read some deeper meaning into her acceptance of him.

            He was watching and waiting for her reply.

            A tractor trailer barreled past them on the highway, so close she could feel the vibrations in the ground.

            The moment past, Jarod said, “We should get back on the road.  I think we’ll stop at the first motel we come across.  You need some food and a good night’s sleep.”  He stood up.

            “A good night’s sleep?  Can’t remember the last time I had one of those.”

            She could see the sympathy in his brown eyes as he helped her get to her feet.  A flash of irritation made her climb back into the jeep a little quicker than was wise.  As Jarod went around to the driver’s side, she took another swig of water then leaned her head back against the seat to calm a sudden wave of dizziness.

            After he’d smoothly maneuvered them back into traffic, Jarod said, “No fancy four-star hotel for us.  You need to stay at a place you normally wouldn’t.  Doing the unexpected will keep you one step ahead of your pursuers.”

            Despite how rotten she felt, Miss Parker let out a dry chuckle.  “A Fugitive 101 lesson from Professor Jarod?”

            “Sorry,” he said, having the decency to sound a bit sheepish.  “I guess you know better than anyone how the Centre Sweepers operate.”

            “Well, they won’t do anything without a directive from the Tower, which means it will have to come from my father, which means he might find a way to delay sending a team after me to give me a chance to get away.”

            Jarod said nothing, but she saw his jaw clench and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.  He didn’t need to say a word.  She knew he would never trust her father – and granted, he had reason – but he had no right to expect her to feel the same.  It was an old argument between them and one she didn’t have the strength to continue right now.

            She closed her eyes to discourage any further conversation.  Maybe she’d be lucky enough to fall asleep.  She could use a break from the crises of the real world.

            Jarod had heard of the phenomenon of falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, but he had certainly never experienced it himself and thought it highly unlikely that anyone could slip into true slumber that fast without pharmaceutical aid. 

Yet he’d just witnessed Miss Parker do it.

She’d claimed she was going to lie down for just a minute.  That had been an hour ago.  She’d gone silent so quickly, he’d been relieved to hear her deep, even breathing that confirmed she was just sleeping.  He hoped she’d stay that way for the rest of the night; the fact that she’d gone out so quickly meant her exhaustion must be deeper than he’d realized.

He doubted he’d get much sleep tonight.  The arm chair that was serving as his bed afforded little comfort, but it was his worry about Miss Parker that was keeping him awake. 

Her brief flashes of sarcasm on the road had indicated she was coming out of her shock, or so he’d thought.  The hard edges of her personality served as a shield to protect her true feelings.  Jarod knew those edges could soften at times, but right now he feared she was too brittle and would break if she let her guard down.  So he’d been relieved when her acerbic wit had surfaced.

But when they’d arrived at the motel, she’d seemed to slip back into a kind of stupor.  She’d made no derogatory comment about their dingy room with the stained carpet and tacky furniture nor objected to the fact that they were sharing the small quarters.  She’d eaten most of the overcooked burger and greasy fries that had constituted dinner without one word of complaint.  And she hadn’t yet pressed him for an explanation about his miraculous return from the dead.

Of course, he shouldn’t expect her to overcome her shock so quickly.  The events of the past twenty-four hours had taken their toll.

What worried Jarod most was what Miss Parker had done to Lyle.  Not the fact that she’d killed him – she had plenty of motive for that.  It was the way she’d done it that disturbed him.  To shoot her brother out in the open with no apparent plan for escape was not something the Miss Parker he knew would ever do.   Sydney had mentioned her drinking and isolation in recent weeks.  He felt a fresh pang of guilt.  He’d never meant for his “death” to affect her so deeply; the last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her.

Miss Parker made a small sound in her sleep, and Jarod quickly glanced over at her.  Her face, which had been so peaceful in repose, now contorted slightly in distress.  He held his breath, hoping that the bad dream would pass.

No such luck.  She started to whimper, a sound he had never heard her make.  He felt slightly embarrassed to be witness to this vulnerable side of her, knowing that she’d hate for him to see her like this. 

“No, no, don’t,” she cried softly, and Jarod tensed, wondering if he should wake her up.  Her eyes still closed, she began thrashing from side to side.  “No, please, please stop,” she groaned.  Then, in a high, shrill tone: “Lyle!”

Jarod was at her side in an instant.  He reached out and gently touched her arm.  “Miss Parker…”

She sat bolt upright, eyes open but unseeing.  “Lyle, don’t!” she screamed.

He eased himself onto the bed next to her and gathered her into his arms.  “It’s alright, he’s gone, you’re safe now,” he soothed.  “I’m here.”

She clung to him, burying her face in his neck, even as she moaned, “No, no, you’re not real…”

Jarod knew well the sense of disorientation Miss Parker was currently experiencing, that uncomfortable twilight zone between tormented dream state and total wakefulness.  He couldn’t count the number of times he’d awakened in a similar fashion.  But he was usually alone, with no one nearby to help tug him from the grip of the nightmare.

Miss Parker pulled back and he could see her eyes grow impossibly wide with panic.  “Why can’t I wake up?” she gasped.

He cupped her face in his hands.  “Miss Parker, look at me,” he said gently but firmly.  “You are awake.  And you’re not alone.  I am really here, and I’m not going anywhere.”  Thinking only of the need to comfort, he kissed her.

She returned the kiss with desperate hunger, her hands sliding around his neck.  When he felt his body responding in ways he hadn’t intended, he reluctantly pulled away, backing off the bed and standing up.

“Jarod?”

He felt as confused as she looked.  They obviously both wanted this, so what was the problem?

Timing.  Her emotions were all over the place right now, and he wouldn’t take advantage of her.  He raked a hand through his hair.  “It’s a little warm in here,” he said awkwardly, glancing at the laboring air conditioning unit on the wall beneath the window as if to confirm his statement.  “Why don’t I get us something to drink?  There’s a vending machine down the hall.  Be back in a minute.” 

He fled from the room before she had a chance to respond.  In the hallway, he leaned back against the wall with a sigh.  It was going to be a long night.