"Unbelievable," Casey grunted.
The Jeep was parked across Mill Creek Drive from the CIA facility, secluded behind a few trees. Casey was examining the entranceway to the facility with a pair of Zeiss field glasses he'd had since he was a kid.
"What's that?" Sarah asked.
"They've got this high-tech guard shack, everything automated, and yet they have a crappy ass little wooden arm-gate."
"Are you sure it's not reinforced?"
Casey handed the binoculars to Sarah. "Look at the cracks in it. One good push, and it would disintegrate."
Sarah nodded. "That guard shack looks pretty fierce, though. How do you plan to take it down?"
"With this," Casey replied, hefting a rather strange looking gun-like thing.
"That being…"
"An EMP claw launcher," Casey said, stroking it. "I launch this thing, the claw penetrates the side of the shack, and fires an electromagnetic pulse into it. That causes the electrical systems in the shack to go haywire, which causes the shack to automatically go into security shutdown and seal itself."
Sarah nodded, almost admiringly. "Pretty creative. Where'd you get it?"
"San Bernardino County Sheriff. They use them to take down street racers. The best part is, then they take their cars and crush them while they watch."
Sarah turned to look at Casey. "You're kidding."
Casey shook his head with a grin. "Nope. There are more flattened Honda Civics in that county…"
He stopped talking. "Alright, the gate guard's inside. You ready?"
"Let's do this," Sarah said, starting the Jeep and putting it in gear.
Casey aimed the EMP launcher, waited till he got a lock-on tone, and fired. As soon as the claw whooshed out of the tube, he sat down, the Jeep accelerating toward the gate.
The claw latched itself onto the guard shack, and Casey hit the "activate" button on the control panel for it. The guard shack did exactly what he said would happen – everything inside deactivated, and it sealed itself, trapping the two guards inside, with no way to communicate.
Sarah smashed into the wooden gate going about forty miles an hour. The flimsy arm splintered, and she roared onto the grounds.
There was only one building, so that somewhat narrowed their options as to where Chuck might be. Sarah aimed toward the building, and hit the gas.
"Walker, what are you doing?" Casey asked, as she got closer to the building and didn't slow down. "Walker… WALKER!"
She pushed the speed up to sixty, and just before she was about to hit the building, she stomped on the brake and the clutch, yanked the handbrake, and jerked the wheel as far to the left as it would go. The Jeep did a 180, and slid backward through the glass doors of the building, smashing them and coming to a stop in the lobby.
"Not bad," Casey admitted, slipping from his seat and crouching down in the foot well in front of it. Sarah did the same.
"You in the Jeep! Exit the vehicle, with your hands up!"
Casey did exactly the opposite, instead pulling the pin on a flash-bang grenade and tossing it out into the lobby. He and Sarah both ducked, and a moment later, a brilliant flash of phosphorous-fired light filled the room, followed by an incredibly loud bang.
When Casey and Sarah exited the Jeep, guns at the ready, they were met by a team of four stunned CIA agents. One was bleeding from the side of his head, but all were conscious. They were quickly relieved of their guns, and Sarah restrained them with plastic zip-tie style handcuffs.
"Anybody know where the Intersect is?" Casey asked, as he and Sarah roughly sat the agents against the wall.
"Interrogation Room 12B," one of them answered in a hollow voice.
Casey took off down the hall. Sarah followed in his footsteps, saying, "You would do well not to even try to follow us," as she went.
The facility was surprisingly empty. "I figured they'd have a platoon of Army Rangers here," Casey muttered. "They usually do for situations like this."
"The Army was relieved," came a voice from behind them. Casey and Sarah both whirled around, to find Director Graham standing behind them, an armed CIA agent to either side. "Bartowski is no longer our guest, he's our prisoner."
Sarah strode forward, toward Graham. "What the hell have you do-"
She was cut off as one of the agents fired. The bullet tore into her right shoulder, sending her flying backward. She slid to a stop, and lay motionless on the floor.
Casey looked down at her, and when he looked back up, there was murder in his eyes. "You son of a bitch," he growled. With seemingly impossible speed, his hands came up, a gun in both, and before the agents could react, they were each on the floor, dead, a bullet in their brains.
He advanced toward Graham, both guns aimed at him. "Your jacket. Take it off."
Graham shed his suit coat. "Why am I taking it off?"
"I need something to stem Walker's bleeding, you jackass," Casey replied. "Now, that supply closet to your left. Open it."
Graham did so. "Now what?"
"Step inside."
Graham complied. "And now?"
Casey smiled. "Peace."
He kicked the door shut, and then shot the lock out. "Good luck getting out of there with a permanently shut deadbolt, Director!" he shouted.
He heard Graham's muffled yells from inside the closet. "Let me out, you son of a bitch!"
"Not a chance," came the weak voice of Sarah Walker from behind Casey. He turned to see her, standing behind him, a blood-covered hand on her shoulder.
"Here," Casey said, handing Graham's jacket to her. "Hold this against your shoulder. It should help to stop the blood flow."
Sarah took the jacket and pressed it against the wound. "Can you still move your right hand, enough to fire a gun?"
Sarah's right arm came up about halfway, but it was more than enough for her to lift the gun and aim it. "A little shaky," she replied, "but it'll do."
Casey didn't say a word, just took off running down the hall, Sarah on his tail. He read off the room numbers under his breath as he went. "Nine A, Nine B, Ten A, Ten B, Eleven A, Eleven B, Twelve A…"
They skidded to a stop in front of 12B. "Three deadbolts," Casey groaned. "Crap."
"And yet, two normal hinges," Sarah pointed out.
Casey grinned. "Excellent."
Chuck had been awakened by what he thought were shouts and gunshots, but then everything was quiet again. "Must've been a dream," he said to himself.
He stayed lying in the bed, and then he was certain he heard voices outside his room. Very familiar voices.
That was followed by the sound of metal scraping on metal – and then the door to his room fell off its hinges.
As Chuck stood up from his bed, John Casey stepped into the room. "Casey!" Chuck practically shouted. He ran across the room, and wrapped the NSA agent in a bear hug. "I never thought I would be so happy to see you!"
Casey awkwardly patted Chuck on the back. "Uh, you can let go now, Bartowski," he said. "I think there's somebody else who wants to see you, anyway."
Chuck turned to his right – and there was Sarah, standing in the hallway. His eyes lit up when he saw her – and his expression immediately changed to one of concern when he saw how pale she was, and realized that her right shoulder was drenched in blood.
"Sarah? What happened?!"
He stepped toward her. She started to explain, but then changed her mind. She took her left hand off of her shoulder, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him to her.
The kiss was passionate, furious – and brief. "There'll be all the time for that in the world when we're not in a life-and-death situation," Casey grumbled, breaking the moment.
Chuck pulled away from Sarah. It was a moment before she opened her eyes.
"Alright," she finally said. "I'll take point. Chuck, you stay behind me. Casey, bring up the rear."
She took off, her left hand back to putting pressure on her right shoulder, her right hand at hip level, gun leveled. Chuck followed, with Casey behind, a gun in each hand.
They reached the lobby with no incident. However, one of the restrained CIA agents had managed to worm his way over to an MP5. As Casey passed him, he fired, not looking, not aiming. The automatic fire stitched across the back of Casey's legs, causing him to cry out in pain and collapse to the ground.
Sarah whirled round. "Get down, Chuck!" she shouted. Chuck dove behind the protective cover of the Jeep as Sarah aimed her gun as well as she could. She fired, and her shot hit the agent in the shoulder, causing him to drop the gun – but not before a stray bullet from the MP5 hit her in the gut.
"Shit!" she shouted, doubling over in pain. Chuck popped up from behind the Jeep, saw her bent over, and ran over to her.
"What happened?!" he practically yelled. Sarah stood back up, wincing.
"Nothing, I'll be okay. Get Casey into the Jeep."
Casey had latched onto the rear bumper and dragged himself up to his knees. Chuck grabbed him under the arms, pulled him up the rest of the way, and hefted him over the tailgate of the Jeep, unceremoniously dumping him into the back end.
Sarah had started to limp her way around to the driver's seat, but Chuck stopped her. "Absolutely not," he said. "You can't drive and shift with one good arm, and I don't feel like getting out of here just to die in an unfortunate car crash."
Sarah smiled through her pain at Chuck's sarcastic word choice. Without saying anything, she limped over to the shotgun door and got in the Jeep. Chuck got in the driver's seat, started the Jeep and pulled out of the building.
He rounded the corner, heading toward the exit – and found that there were several Hummers between him and the gate. "FLOOR IT!" Sarah shouted. And so Chuck did.
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!" he yelled, as the Jeep flew toward the waiting Hummers. The Army Rangers with the Hummers opened fire. Bullets pinged off the Jeep's body. Chuck and Sarah both ducked as the windshield shattered. Then, the left front tire was hit, and Chuck thought it was the end of the world.
Fortunately, Gunnery Sergeant Mitchell Tucker was a paranoid man. He had had tires put on his Jeep with steel plates in the middle – much like the tires on Secret Service vehicles. It would continue to drive for as long as Chuck needed it to.
As soon as Chuck realized that the Jeep was still moving forward and still under his control, he started laughing. "YES!" he shouted, dropping down to the next gear and rocketing forward.
He blasted past the Hummers, through the exit gate, and out onto Mill Creek Drive. He fishtailed out into the road, swerving to the left. In the back, Casey was rolled into the tailgate, the impact causing his bullet-riddled legs so much pain that he passed out.
Chuck kept the accelerator to the floor. The Rangers had regrouped, loaded up their Hummers, and were following the Jeep. Sarah was shouting out directions, and Chuck was taking the turns at as high a speed as he could without rolling the Jeep. The fact that he was driving on a steel plate on the left front corner was making things a little bit difficult.
Finally – or at least, it seemed like finally; in reality, it had been less than five minutes – the airport entrance came into view. Chuck poured on as much speed as he could. When he hit 110, he realized that there was a stepvan coming toward him from the interior of the airport.
Chuck blew through the airport entrance, and passed the stepvan a moment later. In the rearview mirror, he watched the stepvan skid sideways to a stop, blocking the entrance to the field.
As the Jeep rocketed toward the Learjet waiting at the other end of the field, Gunny Mitch Tucker jumped out of the stepvan with a rather wicked looking launcher in his hands. He aimed it directly at the front of the lead Hummer.
The Hummer convoy rolled to a stop in front of him. "UNITED STATES MARINES!" he bellowed in a voice developed through years of overseeing basic training. "You will dismount from your vehicles and throw your weapons to the ground, or so help me, the next person you speak to will be St. Peter!"
The twelve Rangers did exactly as he ordered, exiting the Hummers, and dropping their weapons to the ground. Gunny Tucker's jaw dropped when he realized who they were.
"Rangers?!" he gasped. "Working with terrorists? I KNEW the goddamn Army couldn't be trusted!"
Meanwhile, at the other end of the field, Chuck had skidded to a stop outside the Learjet. "ELLIE! DEVIN!" Sarah shouted from the Jeep.
Chuck's sister appeared in the door of the Learjet. Her eyes went wide when she saw Chuck, and then even wider when she saw the shape Casey and Sarah were in.
Ellie practically flew down the airstairs, Devin hot on her heels. She quickly gave Chuck a kiss on the cheek, followed by Devin saying, "Awesome to see you, bro," but just as quickly, the two doctors turned their attention to John Casey and Sarah Walker.
"Let me see your wounds, Sarah," Ellie was saying.
"No," Sarah insisted. "Casey's hurt a whole lot worse than I am."
"She's right, babe," Devin called. "He's got compound fractures in both legs, not to mention a number of bullets still in his flesh. CHUCK!"
Chuck ran over to where Devin was. "Help me get John up into the plane."
Chuck grabbed Casey under one shoulder, while Devin got the other. Mercifully, he stayed unconscious as they dragged him up the airstair, his legs bumping against the steps several times.
Ellie, meanwhile, helped Sarah up the stairs. Sarah wobbled a little going up, but determinedly strode into the aircraft and turned left, into the cockpit. "Chuck! I need your help flying this thing!"
Chuck darted forward, into the cockpit. "Oh, Lear 35J," he said. "Piece of cake."
Sarah looked over at him. "What?"
"I have logged more hours in this thing on flight simulator games than you would believe," he replied confidently.
"I told you so!" came Ellie's voice from the back.
Sarah started up the engines as Devin pulled the door closed. "Okay, I'm going to need you to actually fly this thing," Sarah said. "I can control the flaps, gear and radios, but you're going to need to handle the yoke and the throttles."
"Not a problem," Chuck replied. "Just get strapped in, and tell me when you're ready to go."
Sarah turned toward the back of the aircraft, wincing as she did so. "You guys ready back there?"
"We're good!" Ellie shouted.
The aircraft was already positioned for takeoff, so Chuck simply pushed the throttles to full. Sarah reached over and flipped on the exterior lights. "It'd be nice if you could see where you were going," she commented dryly.
"I need you to call off our speed," Chuck replied, ignoring her sarcasm.
Sarah looked over at the ground speed indicator. "100… 110… 120… 130…"
When she reached 140, Chuck pulled back on the yoke. The Learjet leapt from the runway into the sky, thundering over the entrance gate. Gunny Tucker looked up, watching the gear retract into the fuselage.
"Good luck, and God speed," he whispered as the jet disappeared into the night sky.