Chapter 4: Save them

Casey immediately returned to his apartment to shower away the reek of the fire and morgue room. He changed into a black tee and jeans and packed his large black duffel with the essentials. Major Beckman was livid. It was time to run.

"I need to find a Motel six…they'll leave the light on for me." He grumbled busily. "Yeah…so you can see the roaches!"

He made a mental checklist of everything he needed, which included weaponry, his private laptop and spy gear. Now came the most important. He walked slowly to his end table where his portrait of Reagan sat, and casually moved it over, picking up a colorful and sparkly macaroni frame. Little Charlotte smiled gleefully at him in her fluffy, pink tutu. His throat prickled and a noise between a whimper and a sigh escaped him. He kissed her image and packed the picture in the bag then crossed the room to his bookshelf.

Kneeling down, he pulled out a large, white photo album. Julia had designed him a 'Charlotte' timeline, making him a copy of every picture she had from her birth until the present. The last five pages were filled with pictures of them all together from his last few visits. No one could tell he was a hard nosed assassin in these photos. He was just a big bear of man bundled up in the Canadian wilderness with a huge smile and his long arms wrapped protectively around his family. He traced the pictures with his fingertips. He had forgotten what a genuine smile looked like, more specifically, his own. Julia chastised him that he should do it more, because she found it 'dashing'. He had to laugh at her most recent comment about it.

"John, what was the point of all that dental work if you don't even show it off? If you ask me, I wish you would have kept those adorable snaggle teeth!"

Julia was always right on target with a reprimand and compliment rolled into one.

He rose and clutched the book to his chest. It was a highly impractical thing to bring, but he couldn't part with it. The wheels in his head spun uncontrollably. It was too dangerous to log into his computer, he was positive Beckman was trying to track him down. As he locked up he peeked at the Bartowski door. Everything was silent. Devon and Ellie were undoubtedly at the hospital hiding their grief and bandaging survivors. Casey walked around the fountain and halted by Chuck's window. He stole a glance at his console. He almost expected to see the nerd clacking away on his computer like Doogie Howser.

"Casey, you moron, check the room! There might be a clue in there!" He gritted his teeth and climbed inside. Columbo he wasn't, but he had to try.

He was struck by the condition of the room. "Did a bomb strike here too?"

Chuck's usually tidy bed was a wreck; bloodstains seeped into the mattress near the edge. He found swabs of balled up gauze stuffed in the wastebasket with more blood. Casey dug into his jacket pocket and put on a pair of gloves. The computer was on and displayed a montage of pictures with Chuck and Sarah. The sadness crept back to him. Poor Sarah, she was so young and confused with her latest mission. It was obvious she was desperately in love with Chuck. He debated checking the internet history, Beckman may have had her claws on it too. Casey flicked off the screen, spotting a torn note pasted on top with a message scribbled in red ink.

'SAVE THEM.'

"What the hell is this kid up to? What did he do this morning?" Casey wondered aloud.

It could have been a reminder for one of Chuck's many video games, but the answer didn't seem that simple. Could the kidnapper have written this? Maybe he was dealing with a schizophrenic psychopath, or it was just a cruel joke.

When Casey met Ellie and Devon, they were in their hospital scrubs and looked about ready to start their shifts. It struck him hard that Chuck may have been murdered in his own bedroom.

"That would mean I was right next door snoring away when…" Casey refused to think about it further.

Casey fell on his knees and checked under the bed for Chuck's missing limb. What he found were dust balls and a few pairs of ripe converse sneakers. He staggered to his feet again and rubbed the back of his head impatiently. It couldn't have happened in this room. Chuck would have surely screamed loud enough for him to hear and at least tried to put up a fight. Save for the bloody rags and cotton, the room was clean. He checked inside the bathroom and found more evidence of a bloody mess hidden in the wastepaper basket and needle nosed pliers tossed in the sink.

"Maybe he picked up a new method for popping zits?" Casey tried to humor himself. The mess was too neat for a severed hand.

Casey noticed Chuck's answering machine blink with two new messages and he played them back.

"Chuck! Hey, it's me…where are you man? We're getting desperate over here! Can you please beg Big Mike to give you the assistant Manager's position? PUHLEEZE! We need you and your leadership skills, buddy. Working for Tang was a nightmare, working for Lester was a joke…and exhausting…bailing him out and all that... hellooooooo? Chuckie? Pick up! Oh yeah! That reminds me bro, Ellie wants you to pick up some steaks for dinner…hey, am I invited? I tried your cell but it must be dead or something… okay…guess you're really not home, I'll see ya when you come in…if you come in!"

Casey stroked his chin. When they found Chuck's body, he didn't have his cell phone on him. Morgan's message came through at 10:00am. He felt bad for Morgan; he wasn't the worst kid, just an annoyance that needed to mature. The next message played and Casey jumped back. It was his own irritated and groggy voice.

"Listen, you nerd, there had better be a good reason why you're calling me while I'm sleeping in…hello? Chuck? Are you there? Forget it, you're probably at work already." Click.

Casey's call was made at 10:15am.

"When did I do that? Was I so tired I don't even remember?" He thought with an odd feeling. It was no matter. The damage was already done and Chuck was still dead.

The Nerd Herder was missing from in front of the complex and a quick thought sprang to Casey as he left Chuck's apartment.

"My GPS Data logger! That'll tell me where his car went!"

Casey rummaged through his backpack and pulled out the small black device. He made sure to have one stored on the Nerd Herder for Chuck's protection. Casey went back into his apartment and quickly plugged in the logger. As soon as the data loaded on the screen, the file popped open and turned into a mess of code.

"Dammit! A scrambler!" Casey yanked the logger from his drive and flung it. Forget technology. He had to rely on his wits.

Casey retrieved his bags and left his apartment for good. For the next few hours he needed to lay low and plan out a real course of action.