THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN 10:00 PM AND 11:00 PM
10:00:01/10:00:02/10:00:03
Jack's eyes fluttered until they opened. He winced as the sharp pain from the bruise on the back of his head made its way into his body. He focused his eyes until his vision became clear. He was not in the FBI transport truck anymore, but in a small daft and dim lit room, a bathroom.
Layered tiles made the frame of the room. An off-white color pasted against a blue and white tiled floor. Then the stench hit his nose hard, the smell of decaying flesh. He tried to cover his bottom half of his face with his right arm, but when he tugged at it the sound of metal against metal echoed throughout the small room. He looked up to see that his right arm was handcuffed to a pipe behind a toilet he was resting against.
He pulled harder trying to break the cuffs from the rusting pipe, but they were stubborn and would not budge. He covered his face with his left arm instead. He looked around the room trying to assess his situation. Dried blood puddles and splatters gave color to the pale walls and floor. Two decomposing bodies lay in there, one in a tub and one dangling from a pair of handcuffs as well; a severed foot from one of the bodies completed the picture.
Jack then came upon something else, something that made him gasp a bit. A small boy, alive, was cuddled and asleep on the opposite end of the room. He called out quietly to the kid, but the kid was in a deep sleep. Jack squirmed a bit until his foot hit a small object. He moved his foot out of the way to see what it was. It was a tape recorder. Jack quickly reached out with his left arm, grabbed it and placed the left arm back over his mouth. He pressed his index finger against the play button. There was static at first, and then a deep, masking voice slithered through the speaker.
"Hello Jack," the calm, ominous voice said, "I want to play a game. And the game is for you to decide how far you will go?"
Sweat begins to collect and river down Jack's face.
"You have always put yourself and you're so called mission first," the voice continues, "and people have suffered for it, they have died for it. At this exact moment, your lovely daughter, Kim, is on her way to the place you called home more often than your actual home. CTU."
Jack slowly removes his arm and focuses his attention on the tape recorder.
"She is carrying, inside of her, a lethal virus that in exactly six hours will be released; killings hundreds. Instead of killing those to save the world Jack, you now have a chance to save them."
The sound of light moans come from the other side of the room; the boy was beginning to wake up.
"The door opposite to you is locked, a key will open it. Where the key is, well that is the first goal of the game. How far are you willing to go Jack?"
A small whisper, too faint for Jack to hear spurts out before the sound of static takes over. Jack leans his head back, gasping for air. He had just been delivered the shock of a lifetime, and had literally taken the breath out of him. Jack looked over as the kid slowly rose. His face began to panic; he was lost, confused, and alone and scared. The boy began to breathe in and out rapidly, he was hyperventilating.
"Hey," Jack called out, "kid."
The boy turned directly to Jack. His face painted with a look of petrifying fear.
"Where am I? Where's my mommy!?"
"Calm down," Jack said with a somewhat comfort tone, "I need you to calm down."
The boys face, cheeks covered in tears, moved up and down slowly as he acknowledged Jack.
"What is your name?"
"R-Ryan."
"Ryan, my name's Jack. We're going to get out of here ok? I just need you to stay calm. Ok?"
The boy, Ryan, nodded.
Jack began looking around, trying to figure out how to get out of the handcuffs. He looked at the cuffs and realized the key holes had been filled with a small amount of cement. Picking the lock was no longer an option. He noticed a dull saw next to the severed foot, and quickly tossed the idea of cutting off his hand out of his head. Jack looked at the recorder again; there must have been something he missed. Something the stranger on the tape said that might help. Jack rewound the tape. As soon as the tape came to a stop he pressed play.
Hello Jack…
10:23:19/10:23:20/10:23:21
Kim looked like she hadn't slept for days. It was true. Ever since she awoke in the park the other day, she had felt weird and scared. Then that night, when she looked in her purse for her keys she found a small tape recorder. That was when she learned that she had been infected with a virus. She almost jumped up and ran to the phone until the voice on the tape recorder told her that if she did call the police, her new boyfriend Ted would be shot and killed. For proof, the voice told her to look in her purse again where she found a photo of Ted tied and gagged, bloody and bruised. With instructions to fly from Dallas to Los Angeles and walk right into CTU.
Not only was she tired, but scared out of her mind. At times like these she could always count on her father, but since she was sent away he had became a mere figment of her imagination. That is until the voice said CTU. She blames her dad for this catastrophe. In her mind the thought of having to be the aftermath of something Jack did was the only option. She couldn't possibly have that bad of luck.
The flight was almost over; another twenty-five minutes and she would be landing at LAX. She held her phone in her hand, constantly going over the contact list she had trying to see if there was someone who could help. No one. She leaned her head against the window and peered out as a tear fell from her eye.
Dad, where are you?
10:29:58/10:29:59/10:30:00
It had been quiet for most of the day in the bullpen. Then all of sudden the phones were echoing through the halls. Chloe, fast away at typing a report, watched with untrusting eyes the people and actions everyone in her line of sight made. She did not trust anyone.
After the countless times CTU had been breached or dismantled in a horrible way, the trust in anyone other than Jack and her husband Morris. She missed Jack dearly though. The countless adrenaline fueled chases and Intel feeds, near death experiences. They were what made her job enjoyable; but now that she and Morris had a child she was glad things were back to the dull normality that they were.
Then, her phone rang. She lifted her right hand from the keyboard and picked it up.
"O'Brian."
"Chloe, come up to my office."
"Ok."
Chloe hung up the phone. She slowly got up and began making her way to the director's office. The new director's office; she rapped at the door and the deep voice from the other side told her to enter. She stood center, facing the new director and two people sitting in chair opposite of his desk. Chloe looked at the director, his rugged and experienced face looking sharply at her with stern eyes.
"Mr. Fisher." She said.
"Chloe," Fisher said, "This is Special Agent Ramos and Special Agent Drear."
Chloe nodded at them as they turned and looked at her.
"They're here because Jack has just been declared missing."
Her heart stopped. Jack had escaped. No, impossible, Jack would never do that; he would own up to the things he had done. This did not sound like Jack; of course ever since he returned from China. Jack wasn't really Jack. She personally believed that Jack never came back from China, just his body did.
"What?" She inquired very surprised, "How?"
"We don't know."
"Ok, well what does this have to do with me?"
Fisher stood. He placed his hands on the desk and supported his weight on them.
"Go home." Fisher said.
"What? Why?" Chloe asked.
"Because we feel that he may contact you for resources and it would be better if you just went home and stayed there until we cleared things up."
Chloe's face contorted to annoyance, she did not like being singled out just because of her past relations with Jack. She merely nodded and walked out of the office, Fisher followed. Fisher stopped her once she had made it to her desk.
"Chloe," Fisher said, "don't take it personal. You know why they're doing this."
Chloe turned to Fisher.
"You've been here what three, no four weeks and you still have no control over this facility. All you do is sit in your office with the blinds drawn. You're not running this place, who is?"
Fisher did not say anything but stare at her with his penetrating green eyes. Chloe grabbed her coat from the back of the chair, her purse and headed to the lift. Fisher bit the bottom of his lip and sighed, it was hard to have a friend in need and not be able to help them. He knew how it felt, how it tore one up inside to feel the burden of friends death on their hands. For Fisher, it was literal.
Chloe's phone on her desk rang.
Jack, Fisher thought as he quickly lunged towards the handset and picked it up.
"Fisher," he answered.
"Sam?" the voice inquired.
"Yes."
"It's Anna; we have Chloe on the grid."
"Good."
Fisher, Sam hung the phone up and turned back to his office as he scoped the rest of the bullpen floor. Making sure everyone was steadily working. He placed his hands in his suit pockets and made his way up the stairs.
10:47:06/10:47:07/10:47:08
Jack had replayed the tape three times now. He pressed rewind again, this time holding the recorder closer to his ear. The end of the tape had the sadistic stranger's voice whisper something, and Jack knew that the clue was there. And as if it was in slow motion, he heard the terrifying words.
Look into a child's soul to seek freedom...for they are the future.
Jack's eyes shot up to the little boy in the corner.
"Ryan," Jack said, "Ryan listen I need you to lift your shirt for a moment ok."
"Why?"
"Because I need to make sure you don't have any scratches." Jack said in an attempted reassuring voice.
Ryan nodded, got up on his knees and lifted his shirt above the chest, nothing. No sign of any wounds or cuts. At least not on the front.
"Ok, now I need ya to turn around so I can check your back." Jack instructed.
Ryan turned around and that was when Jack saw it; a six inch incision that had been closed using butterfly wings. He had quickly put two and two together. And those two things equaled a bad thing, a very bad thing.
The key to unlock the door was inside Ryan, the scared little boy.
He quickly shut that thought out of his mind. He rose to his feet and planted his feet on the tile, bent his knees and pulled hard trying to break the hand cuff or the pipe; whichever one would give first. He pulled so hard until the metal from the cuff began digging into his already scarred hand. Blood began to drip from his wrist as the metal cut deeper and deeper into his hand. Jack let out a yell, putting all the strength he had into his left arm.
Suddenly the pipe snapped, and Jack fell backwards onto his butt. He let out a sigh and chuckle at the same time. He turned his head over his shoulder and looked at Ryan.
"See kid," Jack said, "we're going to get out of here."
He said with an awkward smile, he turned back and looked into the abyss of the decision he was about to have to make. What to do about getting that key out of Ryan.
10:59:58/10:59:59/11:00:00