Chuck Vs. The Hunters

Chapter 12: Chuck's way

"And you knew what you were then! Girls were girls and men were men!…"

Casey lifted his face from the sleeping bag and sat up abruptly. The fifteen minutes had passed by too slowly.

"Dammit, if I sing one more Norman Lear theme I'll rip my lips off!" He muttered.

Chuck and Sarah were still snoozing; it was best to leave them. However, Casey needed a little souvenir. He crawled toward their boots and took out the blade Layla slipped him. He had to work fast. He untied the tops of their laces and snipped off the hard ends, then did the same on his own. He made sure to re-tie their laces. Knowing Chuck, he'd somehow find a way to trip over his suddenly loose boots. He shoved the tips into his pockets and exited the tent. He raised his hands up to avert suspicion and moved slowly past the guards.

"Hey guys, it's a little inopportune …but…is there any place I can drop my load? Ya know what I mean? After that lunch and all that bouncing around, my bowels are all shook up."

The guards looked at him curiously, and sniggered amongst themselves. Casey rolled his eyes.

"Hey come on! It's only nature, all right? I really gotta go, but I need a little privacy? I was thinking if I could just trek up into the jungle over there behind those flowery trees."

The guards spoke among themselves in Spanish, trying to decide who would escort him. Casey held his stomach and hunched over.

"Look, unless you want me to fertilize this hill, I think you better hurry up and decide!"

They pushed the shortest and stoutest of the bunch forward. He carried the largest shotgun.

"Jorge will take you, make it rapido!" The tallest said annoyed and spat at his feet.

"Sure…hey, you got toilet paper around here?"

"Use the leaves!" Jorge snarled and ribbed him with the gun move.

Casey shrugged. "Alrighty, but I hope I don't get poison ivy up my culo!"

~Oo~

Casey chuckled quietly as he heard Jorge cursing him for being an aggravating white boy among other vile things. When they at last came to the pathway, Jorge stopped walking. He stood alert and folded his arms tightly.

"Hurry up! And don't do your business too close, I don't want to smell it!"

Casey observed all the foliage until he spotted just what he needed. "Okay, Jorge, but I'll have you know I smell like roses!"

Jorge grunted and turned around. Casey sprinted down the path and behind the bushes. He crouched and grasped a couple of thick, hollowed tule reeds. He examined the bushes and tore off a long stem with thin, ultra sharp thorns. He brushed his calloused thumb across one and immediately drew it back, a drop of blood spotted out. They would be perfect. He pulled out the lace tips from his pocket and the bottle of curare. He had to work fast and very carefully; otherwise he'd wind up killing himself in the process of creating incendiary blow darts.

Casey smiled, remembering his high school days when he'd make a bunch with drinking straws and his mother's sewing pins. He brought them to school and shot at whomever peed him off. John Casey was a protector of nerds even then; though he'd never admit that to Chuck. It wasn't like the jocks and jerks didn't deserve to get pinched. Those little suckers he'd created hurt like the dickens and tore right through all the corduroys and bell-bottoms. No one ever discovered he was the culprit. He even managed to make the school's football team lose big time when he shot his darts at the bullies' bowled legs during vital parts of the game. He also sneakily used them on his favorite cheerleaders to get wondrous glimpses of their full moons.

When Casey, Layla, and their spy team trekked across Latin America, they had to create their own version of the darts. Casey and Layla sailed up the Amazon dodging bullets and alligators. Their little darts proved mightier than the drug cartel guns they pursued. Layla reminded him of his old trick before Ochoa took her away from him.

"My baby's the best!" He sighed wistfully.

Casey oozed the syrupy curare onto a thorn and stuffed it through the fluffed end of the shoelace tip. He rammed the thorn inside the plastic end until the coated end stuck out. He coated it again and carefully placed the 'dart' into the hollow reed. He repeated the process three more times. He had to make sure they were out of sight. He placed the four reeds into the knife sheath with the fluffy end faced up. Casey unbuckled the front of his belt and trotted onto the path. He let out a huge gasp of relief and pretended to tuck in his shirt. Jorge glared at him with a devious smirk and cocked his head to light his cigar.

"I hope you buried your crap."

"Never have I heard more charming last words." Casey snarled and then raised the reed to his lips.

~Oo~

Even Casey was surprised with the potency of Ochoa's curare; the man must've used it on elephants. Jorge dropped to the ground and clutched his neck. He ripped out the thorn, leaving a small piece buried under his skin. Casey pushed him over face down. He wouldn't have to use any other bone crunching method. Jorge was finished. Casey picked up the rifle. The sensation of the cool steel tingled through his hands and he felt revived. Casey strode out of the jungle path and hurried up the hill. The other guards had grown lax a few feet away from the tent and engaged in a game of dominoes. They'd placed their shotguns alongside them.

Big mistake.

Casey rushed toward them and clicked the fore-end against the taller one's neck.

"Move one centimeter and both your heads will be rolling down this hill like Pelé's soccer ball! Get on your knees and put your hands behind your heads!"

The men gazed at Casey fearfully and slowly did what they were told.

"Chuck! Sarah! It's time to get a move on!" Casey bellowed.

They stirred in the tent and Sarah's face peeked out. Her bleary eyes popped open and she hurried to Casey after shaking Chuck out of his stupor. She immediately grabbed a shotgun and followed Casey's lead. Chuck yawned loudly and peered out from all the noise. He did a triple take and leaped up, only to get tangled in the tent. He skidded on the sleeping bag and tripped over his loose boots. The laces had come undone. Casey growled loudly. Chuck's rude awakening was just as he'd imagined. Chuck eventually unraveled himself from the tent flaps and crawled out behind Casey's legs.

"Wha…what happened? How did you do that?"

"I got skills, Chuck. Now hurry up, grab that other shotgun and whatever you do, keep your finger away from the trigger and don't point it in your head like an idiot!"

Chuck froze again. He adamantly shook his head.

"I…I can't! I know me…I'll wind up blowing someone's kneecaps off! Or my own face."

Casey resisted the urge to kick him. "Damn, Chuck! Do as I say! Pick it up!"

Sarah frowned at Casey and helped Chuck to his feet. "Come on, I got your back…just grab it and hold the barrel away from your face in the air…like this." She showed him what to do and led him gently to the guards. She kept a sharp eye on them and waited patiently for Chuck to follow her direction.

"Good, now just take the strap and put it over your head…perfect."

"Isn't that exactly what I told you to do?" Casey sneered.

Chuck stuck his tongue out at him. "But you weren't nice about it!"

"Oh, can it, ya wuss."

"Turd!"

"Infant!"

"Badger!"

"Moron!"

"SHUT UP!" Sarah screeched. Her head still beat like a conga drum from the aftereffects of Ochoa's drugs.

Sarah yanked Chuck's arm and pulled him close to Casey until they all stood in a line, two shotguns aimed on the guards and one aimed for the sky.

"What are you going to do with us?" The taller of the two asked. He turned his head slightly. His dark mustache twitched out of fear.

"Well…I was thinking about pumping your bloodstream with enough curare to stop a herd…it really works, if you don't believe me, ask Jorge!" Casey mused aloud. "But then again, it's too good to waste on you fellas."

The guards moaned and Chuck tugged on Casey's sleeve.

"Casey, I refuse to stand here and watch you kill more unarmed men in cold blood. I have an idea."

Casey laid the rifle down and rummaged for his darts. "I'm sorry, Chuckles. Then why don't you go stand over there?" He pointed toward the jungle. "Make sure Jorge doesn't pull a Bernie and rise from the dead."

Casey shoved him away and prepared to blow the reed, but Sarah grabbed him.

"Wait…don't. Let's just do it Chuck's way."

Casey gazed at the two incredulously. "Since when the heck did Chuck have a way?"

Chuck marched over to the tent and yanked the chords out. "Since now! Bring them over here." He ordered.

"Whatever you say! Let's see how you handle it."

Sarah tried to stop him. "No, don't do anything, Chuck. We'll handle this." She attempted to grab the guards, but Casey stopped her.

"No, Walker. He can handle himself, we're right here. I want to see Chuck's way." He grinned spitefully, but Chuck ignored him and went to work.

Five minutes later Chuck stood breathless over the two guards. They were bound with their ankles to their wrists and wrapped in tent tarp up to their necks. Chuck wiped his hands proudly.

"There! That's my way!"

Casey laughed snidely and dragged the two guards to the edge.

"Casey, wha…what are you doing?"

"Congratulations, brainiac. You made us waste seven minutes of Layla's precious life. Now…let me show you another brilliant Casey way! My money's on Pedro! The bigger they are, the harder they fall!"

"AYEEE DIOS MIO!"

The guards shrieked when Casey raised his leg and kicked them both down the hill. Their shouts and curses echoed across the valley. Chuck could only stare helplessly, wincing and cringing with each bump and thump they made against the serrated ground. They were still alive when they reached the bottom, but he imagined every bone in their bodies was broken.

Casey smirked and wiped his hands, mocking Chuck. "I could get really nasty and let Tony the tiger loose."

Chuck waved his hands frantically and ran ahead. "Never mind! Layla needs us!"

Casey caught up to him. He was getting angrier by the second. "Well, golly gee, Chuck. I didn't realize that! I was having so much fun watching you make burritos out of Ochoa's guards!" Casey shouted in his face. "For now on, you do things my way! I told you that at the start of this damn hunt."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat…" Chuck said glumly. "Think of it this way…at least you have extra ammunition, I know how much you love blow darts since you're such a blow hard!"

Casey lunged at him. "I'm about to blow one in your eye if you don't be quiet!"

Sarah ran between the two of them. "Enough already! Casey, you're stressed to the hilt, just…go! Go ahead of us and cool off! We have the shotguns. We're not shackled any more."

"Sarah I…"

"Do as I say, Major! Move it! Or I'll tell Beckman that you deliberately put Chuck's life in danger by allowing him to apprehend Ochoa's guards."

Casey raised himself to full height. Sarah was right. Even though there wasn't a chance the guards could've resisted Chuck, they might have posed a danger to the asset had they been smarter. Casey widened his eyes and angrily let out a breath of air, a common mannerism when he knew he was thwarted. He latched the rifle over his shoulder and stalked away. Chuck meekly approached Sarah, expecting to be yelled at next, but instead she took his hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't realize I did something wrong."

"No, you did fine, Chuck. We don't have to kill everyone we meet. Casey's just brutal like that. Come on. We'll get out of this jungle soon enough. It looks like we came full circle. We're close to the resort again."

Chuck nodded and kept quiet. He massaged her palm against his. She walked clutching his hand and he didn't let go of hers.