Disclaimer: The following story is based on characters from the Pretender series. No copyright infringement is meant and no money is being made.
Author's note: This story is a follow-up sequel for Opportunities. It is a stand-alone piece with references to the previous story. It's a bit different from what I usually write, so I hope that everyone who reads this truly enjoys it.
Time to Consider
By Callisto
Plata Warehouse District
Buenos Aires, Argentina
A bright spotlight illuminated the small area of workspace where he was studying. For a nineteen year-old university student he took his work far too seriously. The bespeckled young scientist looked like a too-old cast off from a Harry Potter open audition. Checking his findings, Norwood knew he finally hit pay dirt. This time his theories were more than that; they were tangible—solid even. As if to prove his diligence, he went over the mathematics of his creation once again. He glanced up distractedly and stared through the inky blackness of the warehouse at the massive machinery he had built with his own hands. It had taken all of his considerable yearly trust fund allowance and all the money he could borrow from his few, though equally affluent, friends. With any luck, his invention would make him famous and put him in the company of men who had spent all of their numerous years to reach this pinnacle. An avariciously, greedy smile graced his boyish face as he leaned over and ran through the initial safety checks before his latest, and in his good opinion, most successful test run yet. 'This is for every professor who claimed my theories were nothing more than petulant science fiction.'
He had stayed too long. An unforeseen problem had cropped up while he was finishing packing up the remnants of his recently concluded pretend and putting the finishing touches on the latest souvenir/clue for Miss Parker. When he was able to finally usher his last student on his way, Jarod looked around a last time to make sure he was leaving nothing of any real importance behind.
Once satisfied, he picked up his bag, left his clue and looked outside his office door to find Parker wandering through the warren of offices towards his own. Always one to have another way out, Jarod quickly slipped into the closet in his office, lifted the ceiling tiles, hoisted himself upwards and crawled through the opening, carefully replacing the tiles as he left.
Lately, he made sure she had to travel far and wide to keep up with him. He had to allow these close brushes in order to keep her running after him. Now, it had become more important than ever. He had learned to trust Ethan's instincts and his fears for Parker's safety were verified after he randomly called Sydney. The psychiatrist had informed Jarod of Raines' increasing hostility, thinly veiled impatience and deteriorating tolerance for Parker. Subsequent communications with Sydney confirmed the worse. Parker had very little time left before Raines made an overt move against her. Her father's allies had their own survival to consider in light of the power shuffle, leaving her vulnerable. Given the shift in personnel assignments since Jarod started their globe trekking, the odds of her continued existence shank to dim. Both Sydney and Broots had been reassigned to assist Lyle in his efforts to track Jarod down. So far, the only clues were left specifically for Parker to find and forward, necessitating her continued absence.
Parker heard a noise coming from one of the nearby offices and approached with extreme caution. There were still a number of students and faculty milling around, which caused her to exercise more caution than she typically used. Her two personal sweepers had been stationed at the front and rear of the building, but she knew Jarod would find it quite easy to get past them. Recent events at the Centre made her less than enthusiastic to return to the old homestead and the animosity between herself and Raines continued to escalate. Apparently Jarod had been made aware of the conflict or he wouldn't have left clues to his next pretend behind for her to decipher and follow up on. So far he had dragged her from Singapore to Bangladesh and then from Morocco to Argentina. The last time she had spoken to him was after Ethan's childishly easy taste test. Her heart whispered that his continued avoidance in returning to the U.S. was aimed at keeping her safe but she kept telling herself that he was really doing this for their little brother. She still had a bone to pick with Ethan over that stunt he and Jarod had pulled on her over a month ago. Jarod was kidding himself if he thought for one moment she fell for that load of crap about shoving Ethan aside to kiss her. It seemed all Jarod's actions were designed to irritate her—which they did or to get a reaction—which she had, though not the one she expected. Ethan, on the other hand, did little to hide his anxiety and tried to encourage her to leave but with her two minders/sweepers, taking a permanent vacation was unthinkable and going on the run for the rest of her life—unfathomable.
Cautiously entering an empty office, Parker glanced around and saw no other avenues of exit. She was about to leave when she noticed a flash of white on the chair. Reaching out, she touched the worn leather backrest and found it still held the body heat of the previous occupant. There on the seat was a neatly folded article of clothing. Her gloved hand reached out and gingerly lifted one corner of the cloth. It turned out to be an extraordinary dress, with an intricately stitched bodice made completely of lace. One of Jarod's inane notes fluttered to the floor. She picked it up without reading it. He left it for the morons back at the Centre to figure out, she already knew where he would be headed next—Ireland. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the whispers in her mind floated to her consciousness unbidden. Jarod was in trouble and headed towards the main plaza. She stuffed his note in her pocket and bundled the dress under her arm as she ran for the exit.
It took longer than he anticipated but his contingency plan worked perfectly. Climbing out of the air duct and exiting through a rarely used door, Jarod smiled happily. He hoped she liked the dress, though the clue was pathetically easy to figure out. He was walking away nonchalantly when one of Parker's sweepers spotted him. Usually, Centre sweepers were obedient and thickheaded. This one was definitely not the latter. Jarod sprinted away when he heard the unmistakable sound of a bullet whizzing by his ear. A jumble of thoughts coursed through his mind as his excellently honed instincts took over. Without thinking, he veered into a crowd of people, weaving and occasionally shoving them aside. Colorful language followed behind him along with the sweeper who wasn't bothering to be as polite as the pretender. When a clear shot presented itself, the sweeper stopped and lined up his target. Just as he was gently squeezing the trigger, a heavy object connected with the back of his head. Parker shoved the sweeper down and kicked his weapon away from his unconscious hand. The butt of her 9mm had done wonders for him and should teach him some manners. Looking down, she frowned thoughtfully; oblivious to the shouts and applause from the onlookers who surrounded her.
Finally glancing up, she noticed Jarod looking back at her curiously. She had never authorized deadly force; in fact she had been quite explicit that Jarod not be shot. Karl was obviously taking orders from someone else. The whispers in her mind were still in those few moments. When she returned her gaze to Jarod, she noticed him smile, then run off. It was then she encountered an agonizing pain, as though a skewer had been shoved through her temples. The voices had unexpectedly risen in volume 20 fold and a bright light temporarily blinded her. She ducked her head and held it between her hands. Tears were beginning to prick at her eyes when she started in a stumbling run in the direction Jarod had just taken.
He paused and looked around peculiarly. Not a single building, nor the street he was on appeared familiar. It seemed after he had jumped from the slow moving cable car, that in his haste, he inadvertently ran into a district of abandoned buildings and warehouses. No one else was on the street with him, when he saw an interesting prospect. A large warehouse, in obvious disuse loomed before him. This would be the place where he would crash for the night before he boarded the train to the airport and Ireland. In the near distance, he heard running footsteps behind him. Incredulous that she had followed him this far, Jarod, barely winded, jogged the rest of the way to the warehouse. He found an open window and slipped inside silently. He was certain Parker wouldn't find him amongst the numerous identically dilapidated buildings on the street.
The closer she got, the quieter and more persistent the voices. Parker resolved that the next time she saw Ethan, she would ask him if this is what he went through on a regular basis. At a quiet, dark corner, she paused. Not another soul was out on a street that looked like a rundown warehouse district. One building was much like the other and she had no idea which one Jarod chose. Turning completely around, Parker felt not only at a loss but thoroughly lost. Her eyes settled on a non-descript building in the middle of the block as a soft voice in her head quietly said, "Yes."
Norwood was ready. Hours earlier he had injected his subject with an inhibiting isotope. Now, he placed the test subject in the middle of the containment field. The block, which usually was sufficiently lit, had been nearly drained of power by his machine. A thread of uneasy anticipation coursed through his reedy body as he paused dramatically over the switch. Once the sequence was started there was no going back. With a flair appropriate for the occasion, he pressed the 'Enter' key to begin the cycle. Just as he was doing this he heard a noise from one of the windows nearby.
She found the window he had entered and climbed through. A small, rickety pile of pallets was under the window and shifted slightly under her unbalanced weight. The sound was very small, but in such a large, empty space it seemed louder than a firecracker in church. A sudden deafening hum of machinery started almost at the same time, and she hoped it covered her less than graceful entrance. A spark of electricity arced, momentarily flooding the entire floor with light. Parker looked ahead and saw Jarod standing only a few feet in front of her. Distractedly, he turned to find Parker near him. He was curious about the loud electrical hum but after her sweeper shot at him, he wasn't in the mood for taking any chances. In a rush, he ran towards the source of the noise as the wall of sound started to crescendo. Instinctively, he wanted to be as far away from the sound as possible as he attempted to change direction.
Parker was right on his heels as a brilliant light enveloped Jarod. She skidded to a stop; her leather boot accidentally kicked over what appeared to be a specimen jar containing a tiny tree frog. The frog hopped out of his broken container and in a few energetic leaps landed on her foot. She looked up to see Jarod disappear right before her eyes; in the next instant everything went dark.
Norwood had looked towards the source of the sound when the sequence first began. The new not-yet-on-the-market processors he had put in his computers had worked wonders. What normally would take 5 minutes only took seconds. He looked away and put on his specially darkened goggles to protect his eyes, however the electrical discharge was much greater than he had anticipated. He was obliged to cover his head, then as suddenly as it started, his machine slowly revolved to a stop. He checked the readings and was immediately puzzled. This display indicated that two very large items were transported and not just a single small one. Scratching his arm nervously, he rechecked the mathematical parameters and got the same result. Finally he looked towards the area where the embodiment of his genius opened the temporal portal. Nothing was left except a few shards of glass from the broken specimen bottle. The frog was nowhere in sight. A deep despair gripped at his heart as he concluded that this was yet another failure. It would take Norwood several days before he came to realize that his last trial had been a thumping success. The only hitch being that a chain reaction of the key components for the intiating sequence had burned out because of the unexpected load placed on it by a couple of unknown stowaways.