Chapter 2

On a boat from an island that seemed so far out to sea that you could look in any direction and think it was the same course you had started your journey, Dana killed the engine.

She sat down, feeling like she could relax for once in her life. But that moment wasn't going to last very long if and when she ever noticed the flashing red light of the GPS locator that was normally hiding somewhere deep in her circulatory system.

But, that day, the device had made it's way to her pelvic bone, and seemed to have stopped right on her hip.

She looked around the boat to see if there was anything she could use to get this thing out. How she had made it to the boat without being caught because if this thing she'd never know.

During her search, Dana spotted a knife. It appeared to be a scaling knife. She recognized it's shape from one of her SIMs. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the day it was first used, but she had to do something if she was going to get it out of her.

With the knife now in her hand, and a gag in her mouth for the pain, she made the incision  with the dirty knife.  There was no way for her to have cleaned the blade before using it.  She was risking everything, her freedom, and possibly even her life if she became sick from using the sludge covered blade that she cleaned as well as she could considering her current location.

There was blood everywhere, but the GPS locator, which was now in her hand, was all that mattered.  Blood pooled in the palm of her hand and trickled down her fingers and forearm as she gave the flashing chip a close look.

"I always knew there had to be a reason they found me everytime.   So why did you choose today of all days to show yourself?" she asked the chip.  Dana didn't have time to just sit there and wait for an answer, forcing her to toss the chip overboard.

She rotated the key once more, turning the engine.

Let them think I'm going to Blue Cove.  A mischievous grin plastered itself on her face.  The engine roared to life once again, and Dana took a sharp left, heading south.

She made it to a bay somewhere in the middle of the East Coast.  Somewhere she could go in more than one direction.  She needed to ditch the boat. Dana was said to be unpredictable, and part of being unpredictable is being predictable on occasion.

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"We need to take all possibilities into account, Sydney," Lyle said from behind his desk.

"Dana is very much like Jarod."

"Jarod didn't have eighteen failed escape attempts in twenty years, Sydney."

"But, he has had several successes in evading capture by Miss Parker," Sydney pointed out.

"Miss Parker.  Not me.  I'll be sending a team of sweepers to the boat's last known location and heading the search for her."

"She won't be there.  Part of her being unpredictable could have catastrophic results."

"Are you saying she might attempt suicide?" Lyle questioned.

"Not at all, though I wouldn't put it past her.  The Center wants her alive, Lyle," Sydney replied.

"Which is why I'm sending sweepers."

Lyle left his office.  And he seemed to be in a rush.

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A few months had past.  Dana had long since ditched the vessel from her island escape. She didn't stay in the area more than a night for fear of being seen and collected by Center sweepers. And she wasn't wrong.

Dana had turned twenty-five during her time out of the Center.  It was the first birthday in a long time where she could remember no cameras on her.  Her first birthday she could remember without living in isolation or being used as a lab rat.  The first birthday she could remember in a long time where she had cake or sugary foods.

In those few months, she had left so many clues behind in five cities from Miami to Seattle that, even if she wasn't found in those cities, there was reason to believe she was going back to them. 

She was in the elevator of the tallest building in Boston.  The elevator doors slid open, allowing its occupants to spill out of it.  She had a prepaid cell phone to her ear as she went from the elevator to the seemingly endless wall of windows.  The skyline of New York City was in her sights.

"Mr. Lyle," she chuckled.  "I suppose the Center, or rather you, put yourself in charge of the search party."

"You don't seem surprised."

"Well, if history has anything to say, I've got no concerns," she replied in reference to Jarod, the Center's first Pretender success and one of two children that were specifically named in scrolls that only a few people knew about.

"You're not Jarod."  It was a blunt response, but Lyle wasn't done talking.  "How did you get out?"

"Well, if I told you that, then got caught, I'd never get out of the Center again," she answered, knowing it was a trap.  She was a child genius after all.

"The Center is your home, Dana. Why run away?"

As if reminiscing, Dana said, "Home. Now that, Sir, is quite the simulation, isn't it. Haven't you ever heard the phrase "Home is where the heart is"? The Center was never home. Just a prison the size of England."

In those few months since Dana had escaped, the Center had discovered millions of dollars missing, along with some missing DSA's. 

"How's New York?"

A huge smile grew on Dana's face.  "Beautiful. Might even... oh... by a house."

"We've played this game before, Dana."

"Yes. Jarod, the man of a thousand surnames. And how did that work out for you?  I believe you've been looking for him for as long as I've been alive.  Tell me, how does one evade the Center for twenty-five years?"

Dana chose not to wait for an answer and hangs the phone up after telling Lyle that a sizable donation in the Center's name was made to South African orphanages. 

"And you'll be looking in all the wrong places for that money, Lyle," she said to herself.  Then she walked to a desk, sat down, logged into a computer and began making phone calls.  She was impersonating a stockbroker.