Rain pelted down from the sky in a torrent, soaking Jarod to the skin in moments. He ran for the dubious shelter of the pine woods ahead, thankful that it was just rain and not lightning. A bitter wind had come with the storm and even under the trees rain found its way down the collar of his leather jacket to trickle coldly down his neck and back.

I should have listened to that store owner in town and waited until tomorrow to make this expedition. He reflected ruefully as the rain turned into sleet.

He’d been so optimistic, though. He just couldn’t bear to wait another day to find out if the person he had traced to this location really did know his mother. He’d set out against the advice of an experienced local and now he was paying for it. He was amazed at how quickly a warm day had turned into a storm.

By now the sleet had turned into a blanket of snow that masked all landmarks. He could barely see the trail he was following. He knew by the numbness of his face and feet that he was becoming dangerously chilled but he didn’t dare leave the trail to look for shelter. It was highly unlikely that there was anybody but his quarry living within miles of this place and if he stepped off the trail he would probably never be able to find his way back to it. All he could do was push on and hope he reached the house he’d been assured lay at the summit of this small mountain and the end of this track before hypothermia set in.

The snow muffled sounds and sight. The wind lashed at him; driving icy snowflakes into any part of his skin still warm enough to feel pain. The cold had numbed him so thoroughly that he no longer thought coherently. Fortunately, the trail was relatively straight and led directly to the porch and front door of a small, log cabin, type home.

He tripped against the stairs to the porch before it penetrated into his mind that he had reached his destination. Even then it was too much effort for him to get up and knock on the door. No, he was actually starting to feel warm now. He decided he’d just lay there for a few moments and gather the energy to get up…

Before he could give in to the cold and fall into the sleep that would have killed him the cabin’s door was flung open. A woman bundled in layers of skirts and sweaters peered out into the storm, holding a kerosene storm lamp over her head to illuminate the night. When she noticed Jarod lying where he had fallen on her porch she let out a colorful curse and turned back to the cabin to set down the lantern. Then she went back out into the storm and grabbed Jarod by the shoulders of his jacket. As she pulled him into the life-saving warmth of the cabin she kept up a running commentary on young fools who tried to kill themselves on her doorstep.

"Damn fool idiot!" She continued, straining to pull his dead weight closer to her cheerful fire. "Not enough sense to come in out of the rain! Or the snowstorm, as the case may be. No, boy! Don’t you fall asleep on me! I’m too old to be dressing and undressing you by myself. Help me get you out of these wet clothes!"

She slapped his face briskly, bringing him to partial awareness, bullied him out of every stitch of his wet clothing and wrapped him in a warm quilt. She then poured a mug full of the water she had heating in a kettle set to one side of the fireplace.

"Drink this, lad." Her tone seemed gentler now that she wasn’t trying to get him to do anything requiring coordination.

Even so, she had to guide the cup to Jarod’s lips herself because he had begun to shake violently as his body began to warm. By the time he had finished the hot water he was no longer shaking, but his eyelids were drooping with the exhaustion that only extreme exposure could bring on.

"Okay, youngster." She began to bully him again. "I suppose stupidity does have its rewards because I’m giving you my bed tonight."

She supported most of his weight as she maneuvered him to a small room behind the fireplace. It had an old fashioned four poster bed and a small cast iron stove on the far wall. The woman bundled him into the bed without removing his quilt cocoon and then piled more blankets on top of him. She then left the room, returning moments later with a metal bucket full of coal. After stoking the stove she checked Jarod’s temperature with the back of her hand against his cheek and then made her way out of the room, grumbling the entire time about nuisance guests who used up all of her valuable fuel.

The room warmed quickly. One wall was the back of the stone fireplace in her front room and it radiated heat from the wood fire she had built up again after Jarod was in her bed. The cast iron stove also radiated heat, counteracting the chill from the far wall that was part of the back wall of the small home. Anyone who had not been as exposed as Jarod had been would have soon complained about being put to bed in a sauna, but Jarod was still battling to recover from his brush with hypothermia.

In Blue Cove, Delaware the rapid tapping of high, stiletto heels echoed down the marble corridors of the Centre. Raking dark red, shoulder length hair out of her face with one hand, she pushed open the glass door of the dingy office of her co-worker, Broots. Sydney, the other member of her team, was already there, leaning over Broots stooped shoulder to peer at the computer screen.

"What's this about finally having a lead on Boy Wonder?" She demanded abruptly, her husky voice clipped and precise as usual.

"Broots has a shot of Jarod in a convenience store in Oregon. One of those remote monitoring systems." Sydney explained in his usual dry tones, straightening up to face Miss Parker.

"Since it's forwarded to the monitoring headquarters the image can be intercepted by the right programs." Broots explained earnestly. His gentle face bore a perpetually worried look.

"I really don't care how you did it, Broots, I just want to know where he is."

"Well, we still don't know where he is." Broots clarified. "But he was in Eugene, Oregon three days ago."

"Three days!" Miss Parker exploded. "What good is that? He could be anywhere from Canada to Texas by now."

"I'm sorry, the program needs time to sort through all the information!" Broots defended himself with unaccustomed vigor.

"At least we now have an area to monitor more closely." Sydney interceded, assuming his typical role as peacemaker between the two differing personalities.

"Maybe Angelo can give us an idea as to what Jarod wants in the Northwest." Miss Parker speculated, changing from attacking to finding solutions with dizzying speed. "Print out that picture of Jarod." She ordered Broots, turning on one high heel as she spoke. "I'll see if I can locate Angelo."

Sydney shook his head slightly, a slight smile creasing his lips. Broots simply stared in bemusement as the door swung shut behind her. As usual, Miss Parker had blown in and out with the force and turmoil of a tornado.

The woman finally had time to shed two of her sweaters and a layer of skirts to counteract the now intense warmth of her house. She was left with a warm red and blue checked flannel shirt that clashed terribly with her purple, yellow and green striped wool skirt. She shed her wet sheepskin slippers for a dry pair she had kept warming by the fire and placed the wet ones on the hearth to dry in turn. Jarod’s wet clothes were spread evenly across the rest of the hearth. Then she made herself a bed on the couch and a cup of tea. Sipping on her tea and curled up in her nest on the couch the woman stared thoughtfully into the fire and considered the ramifications of the night's events.

The fire softened the lines on her face and hid much of the gray in her hair but it was clear that she was old enough to be Jarod’s grandmother. Her blue eyes held a keen intelligence that belied the rambling grumbles she had greeted Jarod with. As she contemplated the meaning in a young man collapsing on her porch in the middle of the first real snowstorm of the season her face showed iron determination and will.

Her cozy hideout had been discovered---that much was clear, but by whom? Was she still safe or should she prepare to leave? No, it didn’t matter which side the boy was on, if he had found her others would soon follow. Either he was working for the Centre, in which case she needed to decide what she would do with him, or he was working against them and the Centre would be chasing him. No matter which it turned out to be, the Centre would soon be aware of her continued existence.

With a sigh of resignation the woman set down her empty tea mug and went back in the bedroom to check on her guest. A glance at the man brought another complication. His cheeks were now flushed with fever. He had tossed off most of his blankets and appeared to be having trouble breathing.

The woman swore furiously, her anger a poor attempt to mask her concern. The fever and raspy breathing were potentially serious side effects of the near freezing he had received. The snowstorm outside showed signs of turning into a blizzard, one that could last for days and she had a sick stranger on her hands!

"If had wanted to stay up nights I’d have had a child years ago!" She muttered as she stomped into her front room for supplies.

It took several trips to bring in the wooden armchair with its homemade cushions, open soup kettle with water and eucalyptus leaves, and her knitting. She placed the kettle on top of the stove, stoked it, and crushed the leaves into the water. The steam and the menthol in the eucalyptus would help his breathing.

She then brought in another kettle of water, this time made lukewarm by some of the heated water in her front room, and a washcloth. With more patience than her complaints to date had indicated, she began to sponge Jarod’s face and chest, replacing her warmest quilt over him when she was done. Then she settled herself into the chair and picked up her latest knitting project, a rather tangled and snarled square that could have been anything from the beginning of an afghan to an extra wide scarf. It was going to be a long night.

"Has Mr. White had any luck?"

Parker froze into place at the sound of her brother’s unmistakable voice.

"Yes. The missing piece to the Progeny Project has been located and he’s moving in now. We should have our subject within the week."

Parker barely restrained the shudder that threatened at the smooth, polished tones of Lyle’s companion, Mr. Cox. Cox managed to frighten her in a way that even her psychopathic brother couldn’t manage. He seemed so----artificial, like a wax mannequin that could walk and talk through some arcane magic.

"Good. He’d better not mess it up. As you know, the Triumvirate is growing weary of these delays in our program."

"If we could just lay our hands on Jarod, none of this would matter." Cox murmured pointedly.

Parker sidled back as the voices began moving towards the corridor where she had paused to eavesdrop. She turned the handle to the first door she came to and slid in, much to the surprise of the harried accountant type working inside of it.

"Don’t mind me." She smiled brightly, further flustering the man. "I just stopped by to see if Broots was visiting you."

She had no clue who this person was, but he looked like someone Broots would be friends with. Her guess must have been on target, because the man stopped looking like he feared for his life, although he was still obviously overwhelmed.

"So, just what is it you do here anyway, uhhh, Robert?" She asked quietly, grabbing the man’s name from his desktop nameplate and hoping that Lyle wouldn’t overhear her as he and Cox passed by.

"M-mostly I do payroll, Miss Parker." Robert answered, his eyes beginning to glow with admiration---something Parker missed entirely.

"That’s great! Now I know where to go to collect all that overtime Daddy keeps expecting of me." Parker answered brightly, moving towards the door just moments after she heard Lyle and Cox pass by.

"But you’re----" Parker opened the door and peeked down the hall, scooting out as soon as she’d determined that it was clear of her brother. "---salaried." He finished lamely as the door shut decisively behind her.

Parker hustled down the hall to the elevators, and Angelo’s room, forgetting Robert the Accountant mere seconds after having met him.

"As if I didn’t have enough problems." She mused grimly in the elevator, which she had to herself. "Now I have to figure out what this Progeny Project is."

The woman didn't get much knitting done on her project as the night wore on. Her fears were realized when Jarod began to rave deliriously. He tossed around restlessly in the bed, pursued by nightmare images that he couldn't escape and her second attempt to sponge him off and reduce his fever failed miserably.

The woman sighed in resignation and went out to the small cooking area in the far corner of her front room. Underneath the rag throw rug in front of the cast iron stove was a trapdoor. Originally it had led to a cold cellar but now it led to a carefully constructed and insulated research laboratory. The house above had no electricity, which was how she wanted it. Electric companies keep records and she didn't want to be on anyone's records. Below, however, was another story.

A small generator, hidden in a room dug off of the workspace, supplied the electricity to run her various technological toys, one of which was a state of the art computer, complete with an illegal phone line to the modem. The woman switched on the generator, and then the computer. While the computer booted up she went to a metal cabinet against one wall..

Inside the cabinet were a variety of vials, most full of clear liquids, but some in shades of red, yellow or blue. She selected two vials and a hypodermic needle before closing the cabinet and returning to the computer. Once there she logged on to the net and composed two messages. When both had been sent out on the net she shut everything down, including the generator, and returned to the cabin above.

Jarod had thrown off his blankets again. A hand to the forehead isn't the best measurement of fever, but even that low-tech method revealed that his temperature was dangerously elevated. The woman filled the hypodermic with fluid from one of the vials. She carefully prepped his arm with an alcohol swab and swiftly injected the solution into a vein, grateful that his earlier ravings seemed to have worn him out and that he remained limp and pliable.

Since he was at least 6 inches taller than she was and a good deal more muscled, she didn’t really think she could have held him down for the shot if he were thrashing about. She then studied him assessingly before filling the hypodermic again, this time with several cc’s of the other vial. Once she’d administered the penicillin shot to his backside she went back to the kitchen for a glass of water. Into the water she carefully emptied the contents of three liquid, ibuprofen gel-caps. She then did her best to bring Jarod awake enough to drink the fluids.

A good deal of it ended up on in rather than in him, but finally she was satisfied that she'd accomplished all she could and she let Jarod slip back down onto the pillows. While he mumbled disjointedly, revealing pieces of himself that he'd never expose in any other condition, the woman fought to bring his temperature down.

"Too cold then too hot. Make up your mind, boy!" She fussed half heartedly as she sponged him off yet again.

"Mama?" Jarod asked, his voice sounding surprisingly lucid, if childish.

"No, lad, I'm not your Mama." The woman answered gently. "Grandma, maybe, but not your mother." She added softly.

"Please bring my Mama back!" He pleaded with the earnestness of a 4-year-old. "I’ll be good, I promise!" He began to cough dryly.

"Ah! What did I do when I meddled with your genes? How could anyone have done this to a child?" Ruth murmured with tears in her eyes as Jarod begged Sydney not to make him do something.

"I can’t do it, Sydney, it’s too hot! Please, don’t make me!" He sounded older, but still a frightened, lonely boy.

Ruth placed a cool, wet rag on his temples and was seriously considering opening the one small window by the bed to let in the cold air when Jarod finally started to relax. He was still very hot, but she thought that there was at least a little reduction in his temperature. With a sigh of relief she settled back into her chair and closed her burning eyes for a moment.

"Angelo, tell us what Jarod is up to this time."

Miss Parker held out the picture to the blond man seated on the floor of the dark and dusty room. His face, deeply lined with care, held a curiously innocent expression that contrasted sharply with the both the lines and the knowing intelligence lurking in his pale blue eyes.

"Jarod." He said in the tones of one importing valuable information.

"We know that's Jarod." Miss Parker ground out with more force than she usually used with Angelo.

"Jarod looking. Where is Ruth? Where is past?" Angelo went on, never looking at the three people hanging on his every word.

"Ruth? Who the hell is Ruth?" Miss Parker straightened angrily.

It seemed that they were constantly uncovering secrets during this pursuit and she was tired of the never ending surprises. They made her stomach hurt. Her sharp eyes instantly noticed Sydney's thoughtfully pursed lips.

"Don't tell me you know about her, Sydney!"

"I'm not sure." He ignored her anger. "There was a Dr. Ruth Samuelson who did some work through NuGenesis. I thought that she died many years ago."

"Find out everything you can about her!" Parker ordered Broots bluntly. "And for once, Sydney, be helpful." She followed up, swinging around to glare at the older man.

Sydney nodded slightly, but whether that meant that he would follow her order or simply meant that he was acknowledging it, Parker wasn't sure. With a frustrated sigh she strode out of the room.

"This job is not worth the aggravation!" The three men heard her mutter as she left.

"Where are my parents?" Jarod asked suddenly, waking the woman out of a sound sleep.

For a moment she thought he might have thrown off the illness, but a glance at him showed the hectic color on his cheeks and the feverish glitter in his eyes.

"I don’t know, Jarod." She told him, in the same gentle voice she’d used earlier. She had a shrewd suspicion that Jarod was still locked into his childhood.

"You aren’t Sydney, who are you?" At least this time he actually saw her, she thought silently, somewhat reassured.

"You can call me, Ruth." She answered; wringing out the rag she had rescued from the pillow beside him and dipped into the pot of water by her side. She folded it over his forehead letting her hand linger to assess his temperature. His fever had eased some, but it seemed to be rising again. The ibuprofen had worn off, she decided, rising to get some more.

"Where are you going?" Jarod’s question was full of the anxiety of an abandoned child.

"Just to the other room to get some medicine for you. I want to bring down your fever."

"Why does my chest hurt so bad?"

"You’re sick, Jarod. You got very wet and cold and now you have a nasty virus. You need to rest, to let your body heal itself. Just wait a minute and I’ll be right back."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Ruth smiled reassuringly at the boy looking out of a man’s face and left the room quickly, before he could try to delay her again.

The relief and gratitude in his eyes when she returned pulled and her heart sharply. She had to keep reminding her guilty conscience that she hadn’t known how her research was being applied and that she’d had nothing to do with Jarod’s kidnapping.

"How did I get wet and cold? Was I doing a Sim?" Jarod wanted to know as soon as he’d finished the water.

His eyes were drifting shut again as he spoke. The coolness of the cloth on his forehead was easing his discomfort enough that the sleep he needed was overtaking him.

"No, honey, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Ruth soothed him while wondering what a Sim was. "Go on, go to sleep now, I’ll be right here."

Jarod grabbed at her hand as she tried to move away from the bed to her chair.

"Don’t leave me alone!" He begged her. "I don’t want to be alone!"

"I’m not going anywhere." She patted the hand clutching her with her free hand. "I’ll just sit right here in my chair and watch you."

"No, no! Don’t go away!" Jarod pleaded hysterically as she tried to free herself.

"Oh, honey, how did they do this to you?" Ruth asked again sadly as he began the dry hacking cough again.

She didn’t see the tall, capable man who lay on her bed, but the little boy who’d been betrayed too young and too often in his short life. After she had finally calmed him and quieted the cough she gave in to his pleas, sitting on the side of the bed and stroking damp, dark hair back from his forehead soothingly with one hand. The other Jarod still clung to with desperate strength.

"Go to sleep, young ‘un." She urged softly. "Rest, I’ll be right here."

"No—they’ll take you away too." Jarod moaned restlessly. "I want my Mom and Dad!"

"Of course you do." She agreed softly. "Sick children always want their parents. I can’t get them, though. All I can do is stay here with you. I promise, no one is taking me anywhere."

"Sing me the song." Her promises seemed to be reaching him because he was relaxing; giving in to the sleep his body needed to fight the illness.

"What song?" Ruth asked.

"The love you song---" Jarod’s voice trailed off as he slipped into an uneasy doze.

Ruth frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember the lullabies she’d sung to her nieces and nephews before Jarod had even been born. None of them seemed to contain the words "love you" in them. Finally she began to sing in a voice rusty from disuse but still pleasant, "Hush Little Baby".

Through the night she exhausted her repertoire of lullabies---all three of them. When the fever rose, only a lullaby seemed to soothe him. Ruth got very little sleep but she got plenty of singing practice.

"Got it!" Once again Miss Parker burst into Broots' office in a whirlwind of energy. "Dr. Ruth Samuelson, fertility and genetics, did research with funding funneled through NuGenesis." She recited triumphantly.

"Left the program in a huff twenty five years ago and was declared dead a year later. Turns out the body in her grave isn't even related to her! Trackers are trying to trace her movements now."

"Twenty five years is a long time." Sydney commented mildly. "The trail must be pretty cold by now."

"Jarod apparently tracked her down, so can we!" Parker glared at Sydney, daring him to disagree.

"She'd somewhere in the panhandle of Idaho." Broots inserted timidly. He always hated it when Miss Parker was in these moods!

"How do you know?" Miss Parker swung on the smaller man, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She might profess to hate the job of tracking Jarod but there were moments when she seemed to thrive on it.

"I found another security shot of Jarod." Broots informed her. "I started checking real estate transactions in the area and found the purchase of an entire mountain twenty some odd years ago. It was handled by a environmentalist organization that hasn't been heard from or about ever since." Broots shook his head, awed by the enormity of the transaction.

"Dr. Samuelson was very wealthy." Sydney added, to Parker's surprise. "Her parents were well off and she had several patents in her name before she ever came to work for the Centre."

"What happened to her money after she "died"?" Parker asked acidly.

Broots tapped rapidly on his computer keyboard before answering.

"She left portions to her brother and sister and gave the bulk of her money to----" Broots stopped reading and looked fully into Miss Parker's eyes. "She gave most of her money to the environmental group the purchased the mountain." He finished slowly.

"Pack your bags, gentlemen!" Miss Parker declared cheerfully. "We're going to Idaho!"

Jarod clawed his way up from his tormented sleep. The elephant that had been sitting on his chest seemed to have been replaced by something much more manageable. He still had to fight for each breath, but it wasn't as hard. The heat that had enveloped him was gone now, as well. The room he was in was still very warm and moist, but he no longer burned with fever. A horrendous rattle sounded next to him, drawing his attention to the woman sleeping awkwardly in the wooden chair next to his bed. Another snore rumbled through the room only to be cut off abruptly when Jarod began to cough breathlessly.

"Oh! So you're awake, are you?" The woman questioned gently as she pulled Jarod into a sitting position and began to pound on his back vigorously. When he had cleared his lungs she sat back, wiping perspiration from her brow.

"You, young man, are entirely too much trouble!" She gasped tiredly, but not too tired to inspect Jarod’s face carefully for signs of fever or delirium.

"Who--who are you?" Jarod asked, breathing with short, shallow breaths and noticing the relief that flared in her eyes at the rationality of his question.

"If you hadn't just spent the last night spilling your guts to me that would by my question, Jarod." She grumbled trying to mask her relief with irritability. "I hope you realize that you've blown my cover. The Centre will be on your tracks like white on rice as soon as this blizzard ends and the snow freezes up hard enough to move on."

"Dr. Samuelson!" Jarod breathed, remembering where he was now, and why.

"Ah, call me Ruth." The woman huffed. "I suppose spending the night in the same room together confers certain privileges." Dark circles ringed eyes that twinkled with mischief. Her face was pale, attesting to the sleep she'd lost while caring for Jarod, but she was lively enough.

"What happened?"

"Young people!" Ruth looked up to the ceiling as if for divine guidance. "You, young man, decided to stroll up here, disrupting my quiet existence I might add, in the middle of a snowstorm. You nearly froze to death! Surely you know better than to run around an area like this dressed like you were!"

"I do." Jarod admitted, his face red with embarrassment this time rather than fever. "You know, I don't think I've ever been sick before…"

"Well, most people would start with something easy, like a cold. But then I suppose you've always been something of an overachiever." Jarod's laugh quickly turned into another bout of coughing.

"Wanted to question me so badly that your formidable brain went on strike?" She questioned pointedly when he was breathing freely again.

"I've been looking for my parents ever since I escaped the Centre. Can you help me?" Jarod leaned forward, his eyes shining with hope. Ruth's dropped her eyes but not before Jarod saw the sorrow in them. His own hopeful expression faded.

"Look, Jarod," Ruth began defensively. "I didn't know of the Centre's involvement with NuGenesis until shortly before you were born. I had no idea they were actually using my techniques on viable human fetuses. When I did find out what my research had been used to do---well, I left. I went as far as I could from everything connected to the Centre, finally coming to ground here." Ruth looked at Jarod soberly.

"When I said you’d blown my cover I wasn’t joking. After I walked out of NuGenesis I had two close calls with black suited thugs before I wised up. Friends of mine were able to exchange my identity with that of a homeless woman who'd been murdered around the same time I started running. Managed to make it look like I’d died in a random mugging. I’m not looking forward to starting all this cloak and dagger stuff again at my age."

"Then you don’t know anything about my parents?" Jarod pressed.

"Never did know that much about your father." Ruth answered gently, trying to soften the coming blow. "But your mother tracked my down after you’d been kidnapped. She was hoping I could help her trace you. Unfortunately, I still don’t know all that much about the Centre. Just that they have a very long reach and that they’re ruthless." She smiled mirthlessly at the unintended pun.

"I felt terribly guilty about what had happened. If I hadn’t fiddled with your genes the Centre would have never taken you. So I kept in touch with your mom after that. My friends were able to help your folks out a time or two. About two years ago, though, she stopped responding to my messages. I don’t know if something’s happened to her or if she’s just riding out a close call with the Centre somewhere. I’m afraid I’m not going to be the greatest help, son. I’ve already sent a message to our "Emergency Only" site that you’re here. I can’t promise she’ll get it." She finished regretfully.

"Can you tell me what she was like?" Jarod asked hopefully. For a minute Ruth was almost afraid the delirium had returned, his expression was so young and vulnerable.

"She was a wonderful person, Jarod. Being a Mama was her greatest joy and, I guess her greatest heartbreak. She was devastated by your disappearance. When Kyle was taken I wasn’t sure if she’d survive. I know that she’s been searching for you all these years and that she never gave up hope that you’d find each other." Ruth answered, bringing tears to Jarod’s eyes.

"She loved you, Jarod. Never doubt that." Ruth assured him gently, answering the question Jarod had never allowed himself to even admit that he had. She rose abruptly from the chair. "I have something she wanted you to have."

Ruth disappeared into the other room. Jarod heard her moving around, throwing more logs on the fire, starting a new fire in the cast iron cooking stove, and then returning in a rustle of skirts. When she appeared in the door she had a multi-colored teddy bear in her hands. The head, arms, legs and body were all made from different fabrics. The eyes were two black shirt buttons and the mouth and nose simply sewn on with black thread.

"She made this for you, after you were taken." Ruth told Jarod as she held out the stuffed animal. Jarod took it as reverently as a priest would handle a sacred relic.

The bear had a white, silk body, a head made from drab, olive-green military fabric, one arm was made from a pink thermal baby blanket and the other from a pale green baby blanket. The legs had been cut from a pale blue baby blanket.

"She cut the body from her wedding dress." Ruth explained softly. "The head came from one of your father’s uniform shirts, the pink arm came from the receiving blanket that they brought Emily home from the hospital in and the green was Kyle’s. The legs are from your receiving blanket. Your mother told me that if she could ever get this into your hands that you would always have your family with you, no matter where you where."

Ruth looked at Jarod’s face, frozen with a rush of conflicting emotions and tears glittering in his eyes.

"Go ahead and mourn, Jarod." She told him with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder. "Let out the pain so you can embrace the love. I’ll just be in the other room fixing breakfast."

She quietly left the bedroom, closing the door as she went to give Jarod his privacy. She’d been blessed with a loving father and mother. Her sister and she still kept in touch with each other, although Ruth’s "death" had made visits nearly impossible. Family, she knew very well, was precious. Sometimes she believed that she would never be able to repay the debt she owed to the children whose lives she’d unknowingly ruined.

Jarod remained in the room for over an hour. Fortunately, Ruth had anticipated something of the sort and breakfast was a simple affair. Oatmeal and orange juice were her favorite breakfast foods and they could be kept waiting almost indefinitely. When Jarod finally appeared at the door, wrapped securely in a quilt and still clutching the bear, Ruth tactfully ignored the reddened eyes and nose and busied herself dishing up the food.

"I can’t find my clothes." Jarod confessed sheepishly.

"They’re right there on the hearth." Ruth nodded her head in the right direction. "But I think you’d be more comfortable in some of Steven’s things. He won’t mind. Just open the closet door in the bedroom."

"Boyfriend?" Jarod queried, reappearing moments later in well worn jeans and a shirt that were just a little larger around the waist than he was.

"Brother." Ruth smiled. "I haven’t seen my sister, Elizabeth, since I went into hiding but Steven refused to accept that he couldn’t visit. I thought you’d tracked me down through him."

"No. I retraced your steps from the moment you left NuGenesis." Jarod confessed. "This is actually the third place that I had guessed you might hole up in."

"You have your parents dogged determination, that’s for sure. Sit down and eat."

Jarod looked at the bowl of oatmeal doubtfully.

"What is it?" He asked cautiously.

"Oatmeal." Ruth answered. "Don’t tell me you haven’t had oatmeal before?"

"Okay." Jarod responded agreeably, taking a small spoonful of the brown mush. His face broke into a broad smile at the taste.

"This is very good!" He told her, taking a larger spoonful.

"I use butter and brown sugar, just like my grandmother used to." Ruth revealed---her tone solemn but her eyes twinkling. "Some people prefer to put raisins and/or nuts, but butter and brown sugar are my personal preference."

"Mine too!" Jarod enthused scooping another large spoonful in his mouth. Ruth laughed heartily.

"Don’t choke yourself." She cautioned him, applying herself to her own full bowl. "And be sure to drink all of your orange juice. You need the vitamin C and I’ve added some liquid ibuprofen to it as well."

It wasn’t until they were sitting in front of the living room fire, Ruth with a cup of coffee and Jarod with some lemon and honey tea that Ruth brought up the subject of the Centre again. Jarod was looking worn out already but Ruth wanted to make some plans before she sent him back to bed.

"How closely was the Centre following you before you came here?" She wanted to know.

"I’m not sure. They were at least a day or two behind me."

"Well, you’ve been here for a day already. We’re going to have to assume they’ll be in Donnelley’s Corner sometime today or tomorrow. This blizzard will probably blow itself out tonight, so we have somewhere between 18 and 48 hours before they get here." Ruth mused, almost to herself, while Jarod listened.

"I assume you have an escape plan?"

"Yes, but I didn’t plan for a convalescent to be with me." Ruth answered dryly. The lemon and honey tea had stopped the coughing that still plagued him, but he was very pale and looked exhausted by the simple tasks of dressing and eating breakfast.

"What’s your escape plan? I’m sure between us we can adapt it."

"True." Ruth agreed, but studied Jarod suspiciously before answering. Whatever her doubts were she must have been satisfied by what she saw because she went on.

"I didn’t quit my research when I holed up here. I’ve got a small lab below the cabin that I get to through a trapdoor there in the kitchen. The lab has a second exit, though. A tunnel my brother had dug. It leads to a spot about halfway down the mountain between here and Donnelley’s Corner. If anyone shows up asking nosy questions in the town I’ll get a warning."

"Friends?" Jarod interjected.

"The best." Ruth smiled. "You’re damn lucky too—they warned me you were coming. I’d have been sound asleep when you collapsed on my porch if they hadn’t."

"So, the warning, how much time will it give us?"

"Depends on the snow and their mode of transportation. I’m going to assume we’ll have about twenty minutes---that’s the shortest it’ll take them, even on snowmobiles."

"What if they use a helicopter?"

Ruth snorted derisively.

"We should be so lucky. You probably couldn’t tell through the storm on your way up, but there’s no place for a chopper to land up here. One of the reasons I chose this spot."

"Okay, so we have twenty minutes to get out of the house and into the tunnel."

"No, we have twenty minutes to get through the tunnel and back onto the mountain." Ruth corrected grimly. "This whole place has been booby trapped with C-4. When we step through the tunnel door I trigger the timer. I can make it through the tunnel in 15 minutes or less—it’s you I’m worried about. You don’t have the wind for a dash down the side of the mountain."

"Not with this cough." Jarod nodded soberly. "I don’t suppose you have any Tesselon, do you?" He asked, naming a powerful cough suppressant that worked essentially by paralyzing the throat muscles rather than suppressing the cough stimulus, like codeine. Unlike codeine it didn’t cause drowsiness. It was, however, not a medication to play with.

"I do." Ruth admitted slowly. "But I don’t like the dosage we’d need. I also don’t like pushing you so soon after the fever has subsided. You could easily suffer a relapse."

"I’ll take a relapse over a return to the Centre any day." Jarod countered, looking steadily into Ruth’s eyes. Ruth sighed worriedly but admitted that there wasn’t really a choice.

"Okay, I’ll bring them up and put them by the bed. As soon as you hear the alarm take two—but no more! Make sure you’re ready to go at a moment’s notice because that’s all we’ll have. I won’t give the Centre a gram of my research, but I don’t want anyone getting hurt in the explosion either. Better all around if it goes before they get here." Ruth looked around her cozy home sadly as she spoke of destroying it. After twenty-five years it was more an extension of her than a home.

"I’m sorry." Jarod offered sincerely, recognizing the sorrow in her eyes. Ruth smiled kindly.

"Not your fault, boy. The Centre has a lot to answer for."

"One day it will." Jarod promised his face grim and determined and the antithesis of the child that sometimes peeped out of his eyes.

"Yes, Jarod, I know." Ruth acknowledged not just the promise but the pain behind the promise. "But today we need to rest and prepare for tomorrow." She added briskly, breaking the gloom with determined cheer.

"You climb back into bed. I’m going to clean up a bit and then take a nap on the sofa—I’m tired even if you aren’t."

"I think I could rest for a while." Jarod understated dryly.

"Good. Now go!" Ruth shooed him into the other room, noticing that he’d straightened the bed before joining her for breakfast and that he’d laid the bear prominently against the pillows in the center of the bedspread.

"Four hours in a holding pattern!" Miss Parker groused as she strode off the accordion-like ramp connecting their plane to the Spokane Airport.

"Weather conditions are atrocious." Sydney pointed out.

"Trust Jarod to run into a blizzard!" She huffed grimly. "Driving in this is going to be a bitch!"

"This isn't really a blizzard." Broots offered softly. "It's only the edges. If it were any worse we'd never have been allowed to land here."

"Thank you for the update!" Parker ground out fiercely. "Now why don't you make yourself really useful and go rent us a vehicle that will navigate this mess?"

"Do you really think it's wise to attempt to travel in this mess?" Sydney questioned as Broots scurried off.

"If I want your opinion, Sydney, I'll ask for it!" She snapped. At Sydney's admonishing upraised eyebrow she relented.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just hate being so close and having something as trivial as the weather delay us." She apologized with ill grace.

She wasn’t about to confess that she’d spent most of the night before their flight searching for any reference to the Progeny Project in the Centre mainframe. For some reason she wasn’t willing to share the overheard conversation with her colleagues which left her alone in that investigation.

"I know I shouldn't take it out on you and Broots." She added with slightly more sincerity before starting off through the crowded walkway towards the baggage claim area.

Sydney gave her a searching look, obviously considering whether or not to ask her about whatever it was that bothered her, but Parker’s retreating back offered no opportunity. Sydney followed with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

While Jarod drifted back off to sleep Ruth busied herself preparing for her imminent departure. Down in the lab she carefully packed all of her disks with her research results and the medications she felt necessary with Jarod’s illness. From a storage space next to the generator room she pulled a boxy sled, usually used by her to drag supplies up from the town, and loaded it with survival gear.

A tent, sleeping bag, woolen blankets and a quilt, Coleman stove and other camping gear went in first. Then went a backpack of freeze dried food. Finally she threw in several changes of clothing for the two of them. It was everything she could think of that would get them over the mountain and into the neighboring town of Perry’s Creek.

Before she returned to her comfortable sofa she had one last task to perform. On the shelves over the computer was a CD stand. Ruth took one that had no label but was in the only red case and placed in the driver in her computer. Taking a fortifying breath she took one last long look at the room and the equipment around her.

She couldn’t bring herself to push the "execute" button for several long moments, but finally she did. The computer whirled happily, digesting the virus she'd had an online friend develop. Computers always seemed to be muttering cheerfully to themselves when they opened a disk or a CD, Ruth thought, and that made it almost like poisoning an innocent child. But it was necessary. Even with all the explosives she'd had planted she knew that it was possible for bits and pieces of her place, and her work, to survive intact.

If any part of her computer did survive she wanted to be sure that they'd never revive any of her data. This virus would completely rewrite every byte of memory with it's own program within hours and, as an added bonus, if someone tried to open a contaminated chip from a networked computer it would transfer itself to every other computer in the system.

Remembering Jarod's fear and confusion during his delirium Ruth found herself hoping at least one chip would remain for the Center to discover and attempt to open. They deserved a virus or two, in her opinion. Once she’d finished her preparations she returned to the warmth of the upstairs and settled gratefully onto the sofa. I’m getting too old for this cloak and dagger spy stuff, she reflected tiredly.

"Don't say it!" Parker snapped furiously as she banged her hands off of the useless steering wheel of the SUV.

Broots and Sydney maintained a discrete silence, watching the sheeting snow out the vehicle's windows intently. Miss Parker threw the SUV into reverse and gently applied pressure to the gas pedal. Maybe this time the damn vehicle would cooperate and back out of the drift they'd slid into.

"Hey!"

Pounding on her window made her jump and rev the engine sharply. Recovering quickly she slid the SUV into neutral and rolled her window halfway down.

"Yes?" She demanded, her tone almost as cold as the wind blowing snow into the SUV.

"Looks like you need a hand." The man was too bundled up to see clearly but he was obviously a local. He had a down jacket and the red and black checked wool hat had fold down earflaps

"Do you have a shovel or a tow chain?" She asked him, marginally warmer.

"I could tow you out." He agreed with undampened cheer. He eyed Miss Parker, mini-skirt and all, with undisguised interest.

"Well, we surely would appreciate that." She drawled back, her smile saccharine sweet.

She resisted the urge to tug down her skirt as his perusal dragged on, rolling up the window silently as a hint to get on with the rescue instead.

"Well, you do seem to have made an impression." Sydney's amused smile was open for once.

"Whatever!" She snapped tersely.

Moments later the SUV lurched backwards out of the snowdrift. Miss Parker only waited long enough for the stranger to remove the heavy chain he'd attached to the rear bumper before waving and driving off.

"That was hardly nice." Sydney observed, the amused smile still pulling at his lips.

"But prudent." She shot back. "We don't have time to do the pretty with the local yokels. I want to be in this Donnelly's Corner before the storm ends. For once I am going to get the jump on Jarod!"

Total silence woke Ruth up hours later. She and Jarod had slept through the entire day and halfway into the night. Ruth got up to check on Jarod. He was sleeping peacefully, clutching the teddy bear tightly. He started violently awake when she laid her hand on his forehead to check his temperature but relaxed as soon as he recognized her.

"Did I sleep through the alarm?" He asked worriedly.

"No. The storm ended and the quiet woke me up. I just wanted to make sure you were still on the mend." Ruth reassured him. "Since I woke you up instead, do you want something to eat? Soup and toasted cheese sandwiches would only take a few minutes."

"I am hungry." Jarod admitted.

Dinner was ample, if simple. Jarod was fascinated by the term "toasted cheese sandwich", wondering how you toasted cheese. After Ruth explained that the bread toasted and the cheese melted he dove into the new taste experience with the same enthusiasm he'd shown for the oatmeal. Ruth resisted the impulse to ask him just what he'd eaten while growing up in the Centre. Based on his ignorance of basic foods she decided she'd be better off not knowing what he'd grown up with. She felt enough guilt already.

After they ate Jarod took advantage of the shower. Since Ruth refused to put electricity in the house the water was heated the old fashioned way, with a tank behind the kitchen stove. When the stove was lit it heated the water automatically. The shower had actually been set off of the downstairs laboratory so that gravity would pull the water down from both the hot water tank and the attic cistern. When Ruth started the generator to work downstairs it activated the pump set in it's own little shed behind the house. The pump then refilled the cistern from her artesian well. Ruth's two toilets worked from the same gravity based system, running through underground pipes to a septic system about 100 yards downhill from the house.

Showered and dressed in loose fitting sweats that Ruth's brother had left with her Jarod felt almost normal. Once again he and Ruth sat before the fire and sipped hot drinks. This time Jarod had an apple cider that Ruth made from a powder and she had a raspberry tea. By mutual consent they kept their conversation topics neutral and light. This time Jarod lasted two hours before tiring and returning to bed. Ruth, accepting that she wasn't as young as she used to be, also returned to her blankets on the sofa to sleep away the rest of the night.

"Are you telling me this miserable excuse for a town has no hotel?" Miss Parker demanded dangerously, her glare somehow failing to reduce the man before her into quivering obedience.

. "Ma'am, you're lucky Robert radioed in to tell us you were coming in." The store owner answered with forced patience. "Now, the missus has made up the two spare rooms for you two. Sorry gentlemen, the best we can give you is our sons' old room. They had twin beds, though."

"I'm sure whatever you can offer will be fine." Sydney assured him diplomatically. "Please forgive Miss Parker, she wasn't prepared for the magnitude of this storm." He added as they followed the man up stairs in the back of the store.

"We'll want reliable transportation up the mountain in the morning." Miss Parker informed the man, as single minded as always.

"That would be snowmobiles." He answered without taking offense. "I only got two I can rent out."

"Of course!" She accepted this latest challenge irritably.

"Miss Parker will feel much better after a good nights sleep, I'm sure." Sydney offered in a voice heavy with meaning. Not being stupid, Miss Parker picked up on the message immediately.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I am very tired. Thank you for all your help." She offered with an overdone sweetness that made a mockery of her words.

"I think I'll just call it a night now." She disappeared into the room offered her, underscoring her irritation with a gently slammed door behind her. Sydney just shook his head and sighed.

"Don't worry about it." The man offered calmly. "Only had one girl but when she was in a mood it felt like a hundred. She'll grow out of it."

Broots darted a fearful look at the closed door, as if Miss Parker would overhear the remark and come out to confront the man, but the door remained prudently shut. He hustled into the room across the hall from Parker's with a sigh of relief. Peace and quiet for a few hours!

The sun was shining blindingly off the new snow when Ruth awoke again. This time it was the loud ringing of her uninvited guest alarm. Jarod appeared in the doorway of the bedroom almost the same moment that Ruth realized what the alarm meant.

"Time to go?" He asked, but there was no doubt in his eyes as he did so.

"That's my friend from Donnelly's Corner." Ruth affirmed. "Get whatever you can't live without and pull on another sweater from the closet."

She followed him into the room to follow her own advice. Without removing the wool skirt she already had on she pulled a pair of jeans on underneath it. She had them both pull on a double layer of socks, silk next to the skin and thick wool over them. Jarod was able to wear Steven's well-made winter boots without trouble. Steven was thicker around the waist but otherwise they were almost the same size, Ruth informed him. Finally, mere minutes after the alarm had sounded; Ruth pulled a cold-weather parka out of the closet for Jarod. Her parka was hanging on a peg by the front door.

Wrapping a bulky scarf around her neck and mouth, it was obviously one she had knitted by the knots and snarls in it, and handing one to Jarod she started down the trapdoor in the kitchen. They'd opted not to close it after their midnight supper. Jarod hastily scooped up his leather jacket and shoes along with the teddy bear and followed her down. Ruth was already waiting by the door of the tunnel with the pull rope of the sled in her hand.

"Hurry up, boy!" She urged impatiently.

She waved off Jarod's attempt to take the sled's rope, ordering him to start down the tunnel. The timer on the wall by the tunnel door read 22 minutes when she pushed the activation button. Seconds began flashing off as she hurried to catch up with Jarod and continue on. They'd forgotten the cough medication during the night, but Ruth handed Jarod two of the small yellow balls as she pulled alongside him.

The tunnel was very dark, with lights spaced over ten feet apart on the ceiling. One wall was solid rock, the other dirt with wooden beams shoring it up and helping to support the wooden ceiling. It was a rough trench cut shallowly into the side of the mountain. It obviously had only one purpose and that was escape.

Jarod's chest rattled audibly as he tried to keep up with the pace Ruth was setting. She was worried about him but she didn't dare slow down. She didn't have the breath to spare to tell him that she was afraid that the tunnel would cave in when the explosives went off but she was pretty sure Jarod had already figured it out.

They were only just past the halfway point when Jarod stumbled and fell, coughing helplessly. Ruth grabbed his arm and pulled him up again. Throwing the same arm over her shoulder Ruth grabbed Jarod around the waist and started out again as quickly as she could manage. She shouldn't have been able to drag both Jarod and the sled as far as she did, but adrenaline was coursing through her system giving her the kind of hysterical strength that allowed mothers to lift burning cars of their children. Even she hadn't realized how afraid she was of the Centre catching up with her.

Jarod and Ruth stumbled through the gaping hole at the end of the tunnel at the same moment that a fireball erupted above them on the mountain. The ground shook---Ruth had made sure that the explosives were powerful enough to completely destroy her home---and with a cloud of dust the tunnel collapsed behind them.

Ruth, gasping helplessly where she'd collapsed, watched the collapse with dismay. Even though she'd known of the possibility she'd hoped it wouldn't happen. The trench left behind would give their pursuers a trail to follow that might as well have been painted yellow for visibility. They had to get farther away from here and she'd just exhausted her energy to get them through the tunnel itself.

"Rise and shine boys!" Miss Parker poked an immaculately groomed and made up head around the door to the room Sydney and Broots had settled in.

"The snow has stopped, the sun is out, and Jarod awaits!" She finished cheerfully.

"What about breakfast?" Broots mumbled blearily.

"No time!"

Now it was Broots' turn to reflect that this job was not worth the aggravation but he dressed warmly while he did so. The three hunters gathered in the main story area minutes later. Miss Parker was dressed for the weather this time. An expensive, and form fitting, ski suit, had replaced her typical mini-skirt. Broots and Sydney were also warmly dressed in ski-suits, Parker noted with approval.

"Time to go." She told them briskly. "This time we're going to get him---I can feel it." She added in a grim undertone.

"Jarod." She rolled over to where Jarod lay beside her. He'd finally managed to control the coughing, which was good, but she had to get him up and moving, which was bad.

"I know." He rasped hoarsely. "They'll follow the tunnel just to make sure. The Centre is nothing if not thorough."

"Not too much further." Ruth groaned, getting slowly to her feet and offering Jarod a helping hand. "Just to the north of here is a rock face that's always windswept. If we can get across it before they get here we'll be able to hole up in a cave I know of while they search."

Jarod didn't waste breath or energy in answering. He accepted Ruth's hand up but rejected her offer to support him again. They set off at a slower pace; Ruth stopping only long enough to pull Jarod's scarf back over his mouth and nose.

"It'll moisten the air you breathe." She explained softly, saving most of her energy to keep a steady pace. "That will help your cough."

Jarod nodded his understanding. Actually, he knew that little trick, but he was discovering illness interfered with the thinking process.

It took them five minutes to reach Ruth's rock face and another ten to cross it. They moved faster when a gust of wind brought the faint sound of snowmobile engines to them. This time Jarod accepted Ruth's shoulder to lean on. Moments before the snowmobiles appeared on the horizon Ruth pulled Jarod around a granite boulder and into a cave that was about the size of a three-person dome tent.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!!" Parker swore, livid with rage.

Ducking flaming debris just as they were within sight of the cabin had been bad enough. Having the beautifully clear tracks they'd followed from the tunnel's mouth disappear onto wind scoured rock snapped her already tenuous hold on her temper.

"I am so sick of that man disappearing down a rabbit hole every time we get near!" She hissed, glaring impotently at the barren expanse before her.

"Calm down, Parker." Sydney soothed her. "Anger won't solve anything."

"I want sweeper teams in every town within 50 miles of here!" Parker ground out, putting a veneer of control onto her face. "He's going to have to surface somewhere and I want him when he does!"

"Of course." Sydney agreed, becoming concerned by Parker's continuing rage.

He didn’t know about the knew Centre scheme she’d stumbled on before they left for this assignment, he just knew that she'd grown noticeably tenser this past year and he was beginning to fear that she'd lost all objectivity. Parker caught his look of concern and made an effort to reign in her anger.

"Broots, you supervise a team to pick over that blast site." She added more calmly. Her formidable mind had kicked into high gear now and the challenge of trying to anticipate every contingency was taking her mind off of her frustration and worry.

"Yes, right away!" Broots agreed instantly, relaxing slightly as she turned her attention towards the rock face that had swallowed up their quarry.

Even though he knew she’d never really hurt him or Sydney he was genuinely frightened whenever Miss Parker got like this. In part it was because her anger could be like an unstoppable force of nature poised to strike, but also because he worried about the effect so much negative emotion would have on the woman he respected so much.

"And what will you be doing?" Sydney asked with unaccustomed gentleness.

"I will be driving down to that fancy resort in Coeur de Alaine and I will be neck deep in a hot bubble bath within three hours." She announced with frigid dignity. "If I don't relax soon I'm going to tear Jarod limb from limb when we finally do catch him."

Once again she kept to herself the information that she’d also be sifting through the files she’d copied before their departure to see if she could determine just what her insane brother and his equally crazy flunky were up to.

"An excellent idea." Sydney approved, still deeply concerned by the intensity of her response to this newest setback.

Parker heroically restrained a sigh at his continued concern and mustered up a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry so much, Syd. I haven’t lost it yet." She murmured as she passed him to climb onto her snowmobile.

"We should be safe here for a while." Ruth told Jarod dully, slumping tiredly just inside the entrance. "I lived on the mountain for five years before I found it. That boulder is a natural optical illusion masking the entrance."

Jarod declined to speak, opting to join Ruth on the ground and take cautious breaths through his scarf, but he did nod his understanding. Ruth knew they were both dangerously close to their limit. She was worried that the cold dry air and forced march would bring on a relapse.

Pulling energy from a quarter of a century of hard work she forced herself to pull in the sled and begin unpacking. After a few moments Jarod began to help. Ruth made him sit back down but she allowed him to use the small pump she brought to fill the air mattress.

It wasn't long before Ruth had Jarod sipping another cider drink, made with snow melted over the Coleman stove.

"We'll have to share the mattress and covers." She told Jarod.

The temperatures that were common to this altitude this time of year made the air mattress a necessity, not a luxury. The ground would sap their body heat without something to protect them. Ruth had more snow melting while they rested and warmed up. She planned on making a hot meal as soon as they had enough water. Jarod was holding up well but she wanted to get him fed and horizontal as soon as possible just in case.

"This is a good spot." Jarod ventured in the hoarse whisper that was all he could manage after all of his coughing. "The depth of the rock will mask our heat signature quite nicely."

"Yes." Ruth gloated a little. "And we have enough food for two weeks at least."

"I'm sure they'll move on in a few days." Jarod speculated.

"Probably, but I don't think my original plan of heading into Perry's Creek is still feasible." Ruth worried. "From the sounds of your Miss Parker I believe she'll have someone waiting there just in case for some time."

"That’s her style." He agreed.

"So, we go to plan B."

"Plan B?"

"You are going to have plenty of time to recuperate, Jarod, because we will be laying low for the next week or so."

"And then?"

"And then my friend from Donnelly's Corner takes a Saturday snowmobile trip up the mountain. He'll hike back down and we'll ride out of here in comfort."

"Where will we go, if not Perry's Creek?"

"I thought Butte." She told Jarod. "We'll be able to gas up in small towns between here and there. If your Centre pals have left a guard he'll realize something is up when John walks back to town instead of riding, but by the time John gets back to town we'll be halfway to Montana."

"Sounds okay." Jarod approved. "Especially since I don’t have any other suggestions."

He grinned at her then, a warm, welcoming grin of youthful charm and good humor. Ruth wondered suddenly if his "Miss Parker" was after him for the sake of the Centre, or if she had more personal reasons to get the young man back into her domain/

"Okay, how did it go?" Miss Parker asked genially.

Sydney was a little worried by her abrupt about face, she seemed to be almost too calm. She gave him a derisive half-grin, reading his concern easily, and saluted him with her wine glass.

"No, Syd, I still haven’t lost it." She assured him mockingly. "It’s just that I’ve accepted the inevitability of Jarod’s escape---the locals were helping him, of course."

She was seated on the plush sofa in the central area of her suite. Her long sleeved and ankle length, black-velvet dress set of her fair complexion perfectly. Bare toes peeped from under the hem of the dress from where she'd curled her legs underneath her on the sofa.

"There wasn't much left at the site of the explosion." Broots told her, gaining confidence at her serene expression. "But I found some bits and pieces of a computer. We're flying the debris to Blue Cove to assess it."

"That's nice."

"Sweeper teams have been stationed in every small town between here and Boise." Sydney offered, his tall frame draped elegantly against the arm of Broots' chair. He watched Parker carefully and seemed reassured by her continuing calm.

"Fine." She sighed. "Why don't you two head back to the Centre. I've decided to stay here for a while." She looked out the window at the view of the lake and snow covered mountains beyond it.

"I think that your presence here would be beneficial to the mop up effort." Sydney subtly let her know he approved her decision to take a break.

"Thank you." Parker smiled with genuine amusement before finishing off the last of her wine. "Perhaps you'd like to join me for dinner? Tomorrow is soon enough to worry about Jarod and the Centre."

Her research had been more fruitful than she’d expected, and she intended to start following up on leads the next day. She still wasn’t sure what her brother and Cox were planning, but it was clearly authorized by the Centre and just as clearly something no ethical human being would be involved with. In short, the perfect project for her twisted twin.

Broots declined the invitation, opting to fly home on a commercial airline in order to get back to Debbie sooner. Sydney accepted, and carefully steered the conversation away from the Centre. Parker restrained her amusement and played along, surprising herself by actually enjoying the evening.

During the week they spent together Jarod pulled every detail that Ruth had about his mother from her. Ruth found herself remembering details that she hadn't realized she'd noted until Jarod brought them back with his persistent questions. He didn't have the relapse that Ruth feared and his strength returned rapidly during his enforced rest. Ruth, after a few days with sore muscles, was as good as new. When John arrived with the snowmobile both refugees were eager to be out and about, even if it meant running from Centre goons again.

"Hello." Jarod greeted John cheerfully. He recognized the helpful store owner instantly.

"Should have listened, lad." John scolded mildly.

"I know." Jarod admitted with the barest hint of sheepishness.

"Well, be more careful next time." John ordered. "Ruth cares about you so don't go getting yourself killed, okay?"

Jarod seemed startled by the thought, and then pleased. He smiled with the innocent sweetness of a child at both Ruth and John and nodded his agreement. In the past week Ruth had almost become family to him and knowing that she would care after he was gone felt----right; almost as if she was family..

"I'll be more careful in the future." He promised.

"Good." John nodded solemnly. "Now, extra gas cans in the left saddle bag and your funny metal suitcase is in the right. Get out of here, and Ruth," he waited until she looked at him. "Keep in touch. You know my address."

Now it was Ruth's time to smile sweetly.

"You know I will, John." She answered, giving him a friendly hug. "And you know my address. Steve and Liz already know, right?"

"Yep. I contacted them right after I sounded the alarm. When you get to Perry's Creek--"

"We're going to Butte." Ruth cut him off. "Perry's Creek is too close."

"You're right. That woman is too sharp not to cover the outlying towns. Okay, when you get to Butte stop in for lunch at Sally's Café. Ask for Susie."

"John, what am I going to do without you?" Ruth mourned gently.

"Get out of here, girl. I don't think the thug ice-lady left behind followed me, but you never know." John waved her away.

"Thank you." Jarod offered, shaking hands with John before swinging his leg over the seat of the snowmobile.

"Good bye, John." Ruth hugged him again and slid on behind Jarod.

Broots was staring at his computer monitor is dismay when Parker walked into his office the next week.

"What happened now?" She demanded, resigned to more bad news.

"The chips were infected!" He exclaimed in outrage.

It never ceased to amaze Parker when Broots showed this naive side of himself. As if no one could possibly be unethical. It was such a blatant fantasy, when you considered the fact that he worked for the Centre, that she almost laughed.

"So?" She questioned instead.

"Look!" He waved at his monitor. The words, "Revenge Can Be Sweet" ran endlessly across the screen in.

"Jarod, I suppose." She shook her head slowly.

"No, I don't think so." Sydney's voice sounded suddenly from the door. "It's not really his style, is it?"

"You think that old lady did this?" Broots demanded incredulously. "She looked so nice!"

They'd found her photo album, burned around the edges but astonishingly intact 50 yards from the blast site.

"Dr. Ruth would not have had the expertise to design such an elaborate virus." Sydney told him. "However, she has proven herself to be remarkably resourceful. I'm sure she was able to find someone with the knowledge required. I would say that we have been served notice." He added as two new words appeared, "Payback Time!" was all they said.

"That isn't the worst of it." Broots frowned. "My computer is networked."

"You mean..?" Sydney couldn't bring himself to actually state his suspicion.

"Every Centre computer is now infected." Broots acknowledged bleakly.

Both men were shocked when Miss Parker broke into peals of laughter. They shared a rare moment of male bonding when they admitted their confusion to each other with simultaneous shrugs.

"Keep in touch, Jarod." Ruth said softly, tears in her eyes.

"I will." He promised awkwardly.

He stuffed the bear into his leather jacket and zipped it half way up before picking up his briefcase.

"Thanks, for everything."

He'd been sorely disappointed when Ruth checked her Internet site and found no response. Ruth had notice his white knuckles clenching the bear before he consciously relaxed them.

"I'll keep looking." Ruth promised earnestly. "No more hiding."

"Don't get hurt." Jarod cautioned just as earnestly. "The Centre is dangerous."

"I know." She admitted. "But so am I."

Before Jarod could react she enveloped him in a swift hug. Releasing him almost immediately she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and stepped back firmly.

"Go on, son." She urged him. "You've got things to do."

Jarod nodded once and turned on his heel to climb into the cherry red cab of the semi that had been idling behind him. Susie had turned out to be a cross-country truck driver. At barely 5 feet tall with blond hair and blue eyes she destroyed the stereotype of a truck driver. She seemed quite competent and the gleam of fascination in her deep blue eyes indicated that she would be taking a personal interest in Jarod's well being.

Ruth was smiling as she entered the new RV waiting for her by the parking lot exit. Her brother, a tall man with white hair and powerful muscles masked by a small potbelly, waited patiently in the driver's seat.

"Where to?" He asked her as she buckled her seatbelt.

"I think it is time I paid a visit to Blue Cove, Delaware, Steve." She answered softly. "In fact, I should have done this many years ago."

Steve smiled gleefully. A confirmed bachelor and an ex-marine, he'd been itching to take on the Centre since the day he'd discovered what they'd done to his naive sister. The time for hiding was, indeed, over!