fields4

And there was another sound, another young voice she had no trouble recognizing, humming a tune that was deeply connected to another child�s past.
   Kree kraw, toad�s food, geese walk barefoot.
   She smiled. Jarod had taught Nate his song. It was comforting to hear. She remembered Jarod murmuring it while he slid a small screwdriver behind the security panel which protected the Centre�s ventilation system, biting his bottom lip, asking her for wire-cutters, a bolt, rigging the system so they could get up on the roof and look out over the ocean.
   And humming it while he cooked them dinner in his hiding place.
   This was something she had no problem seeing.
   Nate was working at an old laptop computer in a private room, his back to the duct. How close was Lyle, Parker wondered. And Nate was obviously wondering, too, because he peeked over his shoulder, flashing his face at Parker.
   He was fine. No look of fear or even discomfort. He looked like he was having fun. And then she saw why. He popped a floppy out of his computer and made his way to the duct, humming Jarod�s song and glancing furtively around.
   She had to back away quickly, because he reached up and lifted the air duct open.
   His hand was within touching distance as he taped the disc to the side of the air duct. He would have felt her breath on his hand if she�d been breathing; if he�d reached in the other direction, he would have touched her.
   It took every ounce of her resolve not to call to him.
   And the duct clattered shut. She pulled herself into the danger zone again, and reached out to peel the disc from its hiding place.
   She angled it toward the light, so she could read the label.
   BUSTING OUT OF ALCATRAZ.
   Parker grinned.
---
   It had been a long and lonely walk back to the camp. A soul-searching walk. Had she done it right?     Should she have gotten Nate out right then and there? She would never forgive herself if he was hurt now. Not when she�d had the opportunity, and she�d skipped it in favor of backup.
   Cleaners were supposed to work alone.
   She ducked under the wing of the partially-disassembled aircraft which had become their tent and their workspace. It was hot and cramped inside, so much so that she and Jarod would trip over each other all the time if they could stand. On the other hand, it was camouflaged and felt safe.
   Safe was good.
   Jarod was leaning against an axel, a hand resting against the computer in his lap, the other on the headset control.
   He was asleep.
   She smiled wearily. She�d gotten in a full eight hours before the mission, and Jarod and Broots were still awake and working when she suited up and left. Jarod had barely slept all week.
   She dropped her backpack and pulled off her headset. She was recovering already; it was under control. Mitigated disaster.
   Parker crept over, bent underneath the smooth surface of the wing, and pulled off Jarod�s headset, too. Then she crouched next to him, too exhausted to do anything else, too keyed up to sleep.
   There was only a moment of indecision before she took one of Jarod�s limp hands and curled it around her own. Say what she would about emotional shock; it certainly made her more daring. At least in some ways.
   Jarod stirred and blinked unseeing, sleepy eyes at her. He lifted his eyebrows in a silent question.
   �I�m okay,� she said, without hesitation.
   And he slept again, as if nothing had happened.
   Miss Parker reached behind with her other hand and pulled out her gun, letting it rest in her lap, finger against the trigger guard. She would keep watch tonight. Let Jarod get a little sleep for once; she would pick up the pieces of her part of the mission. She would expect to see things like that again and it would not disturb or dissuade her, she decided.
   In a few hours, it would all be over.
   Until then, the monsters under the bed would have to go through her.