Chapter 21: Was it you?

Chuck Bartowski was terrified he would die. Neither Casey nor Sarah had any idea where he was or the situation he had dumbly gotten into. His captor took his cell phone away and destroyed it. Chuck never saw his face. Promptly at eight am, he stood outside the courtyard with the X-Box in hand and a dusty pickup waited for him. The man inside concealed himself. Chuck barely had a chance to call for help when a dart hit him and he fell limp. When he finally awoke, he bounced in the backseat of the pickup with a ragged burlap sack tied over his head and his hands bound behind him. He had no idea where they were headed and could only hope that this person wanted him for a hostage. That would give time for Casey and Sarah to come.

"What am I thinking? They don't even know I'm gone! Work! I'm supposed to be at work! Someone is bound to question…oh schnibbits! I'm always late! Nobody's gonna care… wait! Ellie's steaks! I know she's gonna call to remind me and…grrr! My phone is mutilated!"

The kidnapper was a lunatic. Wherever he took him was sweltering hot and dry, Chuck felt sand sift into his sneakers as he was roughly dragged from the vehicle. The kidnapper was strong and pitilessly quiet. His palms sweat and he reeked of body odor and motor oil.

"The details! Remember the details! He doesn't want me to see him or hear him…but I can smell him. Oh my god! He probably knows about the Intersect! I'm finished!"

Chuck was thrust up the steps forced inside a cabin. The captor pushed him into a hard wooden chair. Chuck went thrashed around in panic mode.

"Please! Please! What do you want with me? Don't kill me! I don't have money! I work at the Buy More! I live from check to check…Okay…okay!…okay!…I'll give you the X-Box free! Heh heh! And if you bring me home, all the games with it! I'll even give you my new one."

The man never answered him, and his cell phone went off. Leaving Chuck inside, he ran to the porch. Chuck strained to listen, but the voice was muffled and he recklessly paced in the front of the house. Chuck had to think fast. He maneuvered his wrists under the ropes. They weren't tightly wound because the man rushed when he did it. Chuck managed to get his right hand free. The screen door slammed and the man returned. His presence hung over Chuck like a grim reaper. Through the frayed threading of the sack, Chuck made out faint shadows and movement. The captor's arm raised and Chuck heard the ominous click that he was unfortunately now accustomed to.

"NO! NO!"

Chuck sprung forward, he tried to grab the captor's gun with his free hand, but he missed. His nails dug into his face, ripping skin off his cheek. The man let out a howl of pain and blood poured from the four scratches. The man bowled into Chuck, and forced him to the floor. He ran to the corner of the room and picked up a large container. Chuck attempted to crawl away and suddenly felt the back of his shirt splashed with a pungent liquid. He was being soaked in gasoline.

"Aughhh! Stop it! Please! Get away from me!" He pleaded and curled into a fetal position.

The man finished and tossed the red container aside. He glared at Chuck's hand, dripping with his blood and tissue under his fingernails. He grunted and rushed back to the corner. He pulled out a large hedge trimmer. The man grasped Chuck's arm and yanked it forward.

"What…what are you doing?" Chuck bawled, hearing him edge closer with the clippers.

"Removing evidence." The killer rasped.

When Chuck felt the cold steel of the blades skim across his wrist he let out the loudest scream of his life. Without warning a horn blasted and sirens howled when a large ambulance plunged through the center of the house. Chuck threw himself on the floor and tumbled out of the way of the fallen beams and debris. He still couldn't see a thing, but heard a barrage of gunfire. Whoever attempted to rescue him may have been hit. Waves of intense heat suddenly encircled him and flames tried to lick at his body. His captor fled and left him to burn alive.

Chuck choked violently under the sack; he reached out for anyone that was still in the house.

"Please help me! Oh God! Get me out of here!"

Strong hands seized him under his arms and dragged him up.

"Run!" His rescuer shouted and shoved him forward.

They raced to the doorway and hurtled over the porch and rolled in the weeds. The center of the house burst into more flames and collapsed. Chuck shouted and tried to escape, but his battered body betrayed him and he fell on the grass. The rescuer grabbed him and sat him up, removing his binds. Chuck lashed out and pounded on him.

"No! Get off of me! Get away from me! Stop!" He gasped.

The sack was torn from his head and he was stared into the bruised face of Major John Casey.

"Chuck! Chuck, calm down, it's me! It's Casey! You're out! I got you out!"

Chuck's chest heaved with a mixture of anger and intense relief.

"Who did this? Was it you, NSA ASSASSIN! Did you put someone up to this…or did you do it all yourself!" He spat at him. "You couldn't just shoot me in the head while I watched TV…you had to drag me out to the desert, try and slice off my hand…set me on fire! Oh! And shoot me on top of it! huh! Huh!"

Chuck beat on him; Casey fell backwards and grabbed his right shoulder where Lane's bullet entered. Casey blocked Chuck's punches and rolled away. He slithered back and clutched Chuck's collar. He slapped him hard in the face. Chuck immediately dropped to his hands and knees. He pulled at the dirt and weeds and cried like a wounded little boy.

"Get a grip on yourself, Chuck! Now!"

"Why? What I have done to deserve this? What have I done to you? Why Casey?"

Casey didn't let his anger get the better of him. He fell beside Chuck and put his arm across Chuck's shoulder and pulled him close.

"Chuck! I didn't do this, I swear to you. I came in the ambulance. I came to rescue you and stop this! Look at me! You scratched the killer's face! Is my face scratched? Is it?"

Chuck stared at him; knowing deep down Casey was not his abductor. It couldn't be Casey…he didn't operate in that way.

"I know who did this. They're going to blow up the Buy More at 11:00 and everyone is going to die! Sarah! Julia and my baby…Morgan, all of them! Please believe me!"

Chuck looked at the broken Agent in shock. He never thought that the man possessed tear ducts, but there they were. They streamed down his face and his mouth sagged. Casey doubled over from the throbbing in his shoulder and his deep anguish, he banged the ground and tried not to throw up.

"Dammit Chuck! I don't want you to die! I don't want to kill you! I care about you! I care about what happens to you and your family and friends! I'm not a monster! If you only knew what I've done for you…if you only knew!" He wailed.

Chuck regretted his outburst. He came alongside Casey and stood him up. He resisted the urge to give him a manly hug. He put Casey's arm over his shoulder to support him.

"You did save my life. Thank you, Casey! How did you know?"

The wounded men walked unsteadily away from the burning house and Casey kept a tight hand on his shoulder to control the bleeding. He noticed Lane's abandoned pickup truck parked alongside the front of the house.

"Chuck, we have to get back to Burbank…your apartment. I need to clean this shoulder fast and then we have to get to the Buy More and stop a man named Costa from planting his bomb. He must have come for Lane Stephens– he was your kidnapper. Get in that car over there…I'll hotwire it…go!"

"Okay! I'll drive!"

"That goes without saying, Chuck…wait…wait…"

Casey scooted down and miraculously started the car within two minutes. Chuck helped him into the passenger seat and grasped the wheel. He drove as fast as he could. Casey sunk into the seat and winced. Chuck eyed him curiously.

"Casey…what was the bomber's name again?"

"Victor Costa."

Chuck's Intersect turned on and Casey grabbed the wheel to keep them from hitting oncoming traffic.

"Agent Victor Costa, specializing in Top-Secret Government Communications. He has ties with the most powerful armed forces of the world, Iraq, Russia, North Korea, China, Japan…and a bunch of other countries I can't pronounce…he's experimented with clandestine satellite technology for twelve years and has seven stealth satellites presently orbiting the earth… WOAH! This is the first time I think i ever just flashed on just a name!"

Chuck took a deep breath and glared at Casey. "He helped to orchestrate September 11th. Why has he downgraded to blowing up superstores?"

"It wasn't about Buy More, Chuck. It was about you. He knew about the Intersect and he wanted to get rid of it. There was no need for it with his technology. He didn't want you stumbling on his secrets! But…it was also that same satellite technology that brought me here."

Chuck looked at him inquisitively. "I don't understand, Casey."

Casey held Chuck's arm. "I'm about to tell you something that you might find hard to believe…but…just try to anyway. I'll find a way to prove it."

Chuck nodded slowly and kept his eyes on the road. "I'm openminded. Okay…tell me."

"I came here to rescue you from four days in the future, Chuck. Originally, you had been murdered and the Buy More blown up. I was home when it happened. I wanted answers and this organization found me – the same organization that controls the satellites. It's a long story, but they needed me to help them with the investigations using their technology. They were good people. I joined them and discovered what the secret behind it all was."

Chuck gulped loud. "Time travel?"

"Exactly. I was able to watch you and everyone else on the monitors through the streaming satellite feeds like it was live…but it really streamed from the past."

"But Casey, how did you know it was a time machine?" Chuck asked, extremely intrigued.

Casey managed a small laugh. "Remember that floating red dot around your room Thursday night?"

"Yeah! I called you about it and you came over."

"Right. That Casey came over…but I was the one who used the penlight. I penetrated the satellite feed from four days in the future."

Chuck's mind swam with curiosity and doubts. However, if anyone knew Major John Casey, he wasn't one to make jokes, especially when it involved threats to the Government and his family. Chuck gave him a lopsided smile.

"Alright Casey, I guess I have to believe you. The important thing now is stopping that explosion."

"Right, Chuck, stop them before 11:00am" Casey closed his eyes and drifted into a pained sleep.