Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Well, some of them are. But the important ones are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this . . . . Blah, blah, blah. You know the drill.

 

 

Final Countdown

By Nicky

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Ugh.  The tunnels.  Again.  If I never see the inside of one of the air vents, it'll be too soon.  I really hope all this is worth it.  That we find what we need in this office.

 

"This is it," Jarod assures me.  "We'll have to get out of this vent and then walk to the room at the end of the hall."

 

"What about the cameras?" I ask.

 

"Broots took care of them down here.  It wasn't too hard because hardly anyone is ever on this floor.  He was able to loop the tape.  The guys monitoring the videos shouldn't even notice a difference as long as we're out by the time the guards come to do their hourly patrol."

 

He carefully takes the screen off the air vent and jumps down.  I jump down after him and we look around just to be sure no guards are coming.  We start to walk towards the room when we see Lyle waiting for us with the door open already.  Sydney and Broots were already inside.

 

"Let's go in and see what we can find," I tell them. 

 

The room was tiny.  Just barely big enough for a desk and a filing cabinet.  Very easy to forget about.  I can see now how no one knows about it.  It's pretty much just a closet.

 

But the tiny room was so full to me.  Full of emotions that almost overwhelmed me.  I could practically see my mother at her desk, writing letters, doing research or whatever else her daily duties entailed.  I saw a pot in the corner with a plant that had long ago died.  Probably before I was born.  I saw books with tattered pages that she must have read over and over.  I pick up one of the books and try to leaf through the pages.  Only to find out that it wasn't a book at all. It was a box of some kind, designed to look like a book.

 

"I think I found something," I say excitedly.  My hands were shaking so much I gave the box to Jarod so that I wouldn't drop it.

 

He tries to pry it open, but it's no use.  It's locked up tight.  He turns the book over a couple of times, inspecting the intricate designs on the cover.

 

"Where's your medallion?" he asks me, not taking his eyes off the cover of the book.  I wordlessly take it off of my neck and place it in his hands. 

 

"What do you think?" Lyle whispers.  He seems to be suddenly overcome by the whole situation.  He's never really been a part of the whole 'search for the truth'.  I think he can see now the importance in this all.

 

"There's something on the cover that looks like an insignia or emblem.  And I think these medallions slide right into these slots.  Kind of like the missing pieces of the puzzle."

 

The medallions slide in with a click and I hear a gasp escape my lips.  This is it.  This is really it.  Jarod places the box down on the desk and we all just stare at it for what seems like an hour.  But really it wasn't more than a couple of seconds.

 

"Who'd like the honor of opening it?" Jarod asks.

 

"I'll do it," I whisper.  My whole body is shaking.  My voice.  My knees.  My hands.  I have to sit down before my rubbery legs fail to support me any longer.  My trembling hand makes it's slow voyage across the desk and finally reaches the box.  Absently, I run my fingers across it a couple of times, trying to give myself time to gather my courage. 

 

I take a deep breath.  Slide my finger under the ridge and lift up.  The box opens with a small squeak that echoed around the room.  I reach my shaking hand inside and pull out a stack of papers, just beginning to brown around the edges.  I spread the papers across the desk for everyone to see.

 

"What does it say?" Broots manages to ask without stuttering.  "Does it tell you how to take down the Centre?  Is it something for you to take to the triumvirate?"

 

"No," Jarod simply says.  Speed reading must be another one of his special skills because he breezed through all the documents.  I was still trying to figure out the first few.  And Lyle didn't look like he was that much ahead of me.  "It doesn't tell us what to do because we won't have to do anything," he says slowly as everything starts to sink into his brain.

 

"I'm not following you," I say.  Because honestly, by that point, nothing was making any sense to me.

 

"We won't have to do anything," Jarod repeats.  "Because there's nothing to do.  According to these papers, we ARE the triumvirate."

 

I didn't imagine it this time.  A long, complete and utter silence.  Time literally stood still.  No one moved.  No one made a sound.  I don't even think anyone breathed.  But tons of questions swirled around my mind.  I didn't ask them, though.  Because I knew no one would have the answers.  So I just stood there like everyone else, trying to absorb the shock.  Trying to make sense of a completely senseless day.  Broots is the first to be brave enough to speak.  But he doesn't tell us anything we want to hear.

 

"We have company," he whispers frantically.

 

Sure enough, the silence is disrupted by the distant clicking of shoes on the floor coming this way.  It's too late to do anything.  Not that there was any place to hide or anything.  Jarod stands in front of me and draws his gun.  Lyle does the same.  I think this whole 'protect the woman at all costs' act was getting to be a bit much.  A little irritating too.  I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself.  But, it's also nice to know that I don't have to.  Not right then, anyway.  I was too drained to do anything.

 

"You scared us," Lyle says when he realizes who's at the door.  He puts his gun down with a sigh of relief.

 

"They know someone's down here," Willie tells them.  "I told them I'd come down to check it out.  But I know more sweepers will be behind me any minute now."

 

"This isn't good," Jarod says.  "I think we're done in here, but we're not going to have time to get out of here safely."  His eyes kind of glaze over and I can tell that he's simming all the different escape possibilities.  "There's only one way out of this," he says after a few minutes.  I can look at his face and tell immediately that I'm not going to like this idea.

 

"Jarod, what are you suggesting?  I'm not going to like it, am I?  Listen, the air vents really aren't that bad.  Let's just go back there," I start rambling, offering any other alternatives.  The look in his eyes is scaring me.

 

"Don't worry," he says hoarsely and I can tell he's trying to keep the fear out of his voice.  He comes over and wraps his arms around me and holds me close.  I hear his heart racing under my ears.  "I want you to stay here with Broots.  Stay quiet and you should be safe."

 

"And where are you going?" I'm starting to get frantic now.  I know now that I'm definitely not going to like his idea.  He grabs a hold of both sides of my face, wiping away tears I didn't even know I was crying.

 

"I love you," he whispers before his lips cover mine.  "Stay here until someone comes back for you."

 

"Jarod, is that going to be you?  Where are you going?"  I ask, but he doesn't answer me.  He doesn't even look into my eyes because he knows I'll figure out what's going on in his mind.  "Jarod!  Answer me," I demand.

 

He stops in his tracks when he reaches the door.  He turns and gives me that infamous Jarod smile.

 

"I just need to create a little diversion.  Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone," he says, flashing that cocky grin one last time before the door closes between us.

 

I stare at the door for several minutes before I realize he's not coming back.  My ears pick up the sound of papers shuffling behind me, but I don't even bother turning around to see what Broots was doing.  An hour later, I'm still just sitting there, doing the same thing.  Willing the door to open.  Willing Jarod to come back.  But to no avail.

 

"I can't believe he just left," I whisper finally.  "He's going to do something stupid.  I have to stop him, Broots."

 

"Settle down, Miss Parker," he says with a lot of concern in his voice.  "Maybe we should just stay here like Jarod said. He's only been gone an hour.  I'm sure he'll be back soon. Besides, you might want to look at these papers."

 

"I have to get out of here," I continue, still not paying much attention to Broots.  I don't care what Jarod said.  He had a reckless look in his eyes when he left.  And it terrified me to think about him going up against sweepers in that frame of mind.  I look around and notice the ever present air vents.  My gateway to freedom.  "And I think I found the way out.  Broots, help me get up there."

 

"Miss Parker, I don't think this is . . . "

 

"Then don't think," I snap at him.  A slight twinge of guilt nags me when I see how rude I was to him.  But that doesn't stop me.  "Broots, I have to get out of here.  If you won't help me, then I'll do it myself, even if I die trying."   He looks at me and can see that I'm serious.

 

"Help me move the desk over there," he says finally.  He knows that arguing with me is useless.  But, I am surprised at his trying.  Maybe he does have a backbone after all.  "I'll climb up first and check it out."

 

 

"And?" Broots asks me.  "What happened next?"

 

"That's when you fell," I tell him.  "The cover to the vent was sealed tight.  It wasn't coming off.  But, I made you pull harder anyway.  You lost your balance and fell off the desk.  But not before grabbing onto the bookcase for support.  Unfortunately, the bookcase wasn't attached tightly to the wall as the air vents were.  And it kind of fell on top of you."

 

"That explains why I feel like I just got run over with a truck," he jokes, letting out a painful laugh.  It looks like he's thinking about all I've told him because I see the light bulb go over his head when he starts to remember everything clearly.  Including the reason why we were down in that room to begin with.  "The papers!" he blurts out suddenly.  "I remember I was trying to tell you about them before you insisted on me trying to play Tarzan."

 

"What about them?"  I ask curiously.  I didn't have time to go over them.  But obviously they contained the secret we were looking for.  Jarod knew that before he left. And now Broots knows too.

 

"Jarod was right.  You guys won't have to do anything to get the Centre.  Because it's already yours," he spits out quickly.

 

"Come again?"  I was really confused now.  How could the Centre belong to us when we essentially have been prisoners here our entire lives?

 

"You heard me right.  It's all yours.  Yours for the taking.  You see, your grandfather started this whole place.  And when your father married your mother, he was under the assumption he'd inherit it."

 

"My grandfather bribed my father into marrying my mother?  You know, I'm not even surprised, Broots.  Go on."

 

"After your grandfather died, there was no mention of it in his will.  So your father got a little upset.  With no one to run the place, the triumvirate had the power that your father thought he deserved.  But, he eventually found out who inherited the Centre."

 

"My mother," I whisper quietly.  It was all starting to make sense.  "And he killed her because of that."

 

"Well, these papers don't say that exactly," Broots stammers.

 

"But that's what happened," I conclude.  I look at him and he looks away, trying to avoid eye contact.  "Broots, I have no illusions about my father anymore.  I've seen and heard too many things.  And he's tried to kill me too many times.  I know what kind of man he is."

 

"I just can't believe . . . "

 

"Believe it.  I heard him with my own ears.  He wants me dead."

 

"So that he can get the Centre?  Do you think he knows about you and Jarod inheriting it?  If so, then why did he wait twenty years?"  Broots had about as many questions as I did.  And I couldn't for the life of me figure out the answers.

 

A light tapping noise distracts me from my current train of thought and I strain my ears to try to figure out what it is.  The noise is constant and I realize that it's getting closer.  It sounds a lot like . . .

 

"Footsteps," Broots says.  "I think someone's coming."

 

"Jarod?" I stand up and run over to the door, waiting with open arms for it to open.  But, when our visitor finally arrives, I see that it's not who I expected.

 

"Where is he," I ask.  Not frantically or panicked, because I can already feel that something is wrong.  And all I can manage is a numb sensation.  "What happened, Willie."

 

"He told me to get you out of here," Willie says, trying not to make eye contact with me.  That's how I definitely knew something was wrong.

 

"Why isn't he here himself?" I ask, still calm.  Still numb.  But a few tears manage to make their way to the surface. 

 

"Let's go, Miss Parker.  We don't have much time," Willie pleads.

 

"Just tell me," I whisper, the tears flowing freely now.

 

"Raines has him."

 

And then there was only darkness.

 

 

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