Yes, it's been awhile since my last update. Real Life and writer's block intervened to trip me up, but writer's block has been banished (for now) and I had a burst of energy so I was able to knock out a good bit of work. I can promise that it won't be so long until the next update. In fact, I already have a draft of the next chapter; it just needs a little work.

Thanks, as usual, to my editor Poa for her help and suggestions.

CHUCK VERSUS THE BUY MORE BOMBER

Chapter 17

Chinchillitas

Chuck took a deep breath and slowly eased around the doorframe to peer into the darkened Buy More. If he had thought the store looked creepy before, now he felt like he was about to step out into the middle of one of those slasher movies. He just hoped he was the hero and not the nerdy guy who got wacked in the second act for trying to prove he was brave. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he was the nerdy guy. Sarah was the plucky heroine who survived despite all the odds.

Speaking of... there was no sign of Sarah. Or of anyone else. He slowly slipped out of the doorway and into the nearest aisle, crouching so he could stay hidden behind the shelves. He crept slowly down the aisle, listening carefully for any sound. It was all he could do not to call for Sarah.

Suddenly, there was a crash in the next aisle and he heard a familiar, drunken voice say, "Jeff! Quiet! We don't want to disturb the chinch... the chinchi... the little animals in case they're gettin' their groove on."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," came the drunken reply (although with Jeff it was sometimes hard to tell the difference between drunk and sober, which begged the question of whether he was ever sober).

Chuck sighed and straightened up. "What are you guys doing?" he asked in a loud, clear voice.

"Shhhh! Quiet, Jeff," Lester said, in a voice loud enough to be heard clear out in the parking lot.

"It wasn't me... I don't think," Jeff replied.

Chuck walked around to the head of the next aisle to confront Drunk and Drunker. They were still wobbling down the aisle more or less in the direction of the back room. "Jeff! Lester!" he called.

The pair spun around and blinked in surprise at the sight of Chuck standing there in what they assumed was an empty store.

"It's the Bomber!" Jeff cried.

"You moron," Lester replied, slapping Jeff on the arm. "It's Chuck. Hello, Charles. You're not the Bomber, are you?" He blinked and tried to focus on Chuck. "But why are you wearing gloves?"

Chuck quickly stuck his bandaged hands behind his back. "What are you two doing here?" he asked, trying to bring the conversation back to his original query.

"Shhh," Lester said. "We're checking on the ch- ch- chinchillas to make sure they're making lots of baby chinchillas."

"Chinchillitas," Jeff said.

Lester looked up at his taller companion. "Why Jeffery! I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

"I am a man of many talents," Jeff said. "Did you know I can burp the entire William Tell Overture? Do you wanna hear me?"

"No, no," Chuck cut in, holding up his hands, before wincing and sticking them back out of sight. "I think we can dispense with the gastronomic concert. I was just cleaning out the chinchillas' cage, since you guys didn't do it like I asked."

"Any chinchillitas?" Jeff asked.

"No, Jeff. No babies yet," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"Well, that's probably because you disturbed them," Lester said. "C'mon, Jeff. Let's go back to Bennie's. I hear a beer calling my name."

"Beer and I are on a first name basis," Jeff replied happily.

"Great. Go," Chuck said. "Leave me to take care of your chinchillas." Of course, he should have remembered that sarcasm was lost on the inebriated.

Jeff and Lester staggered back toward the front of the store. "I like that word. It's fun to say," Jeff said. "Chinchilla. Chinchilla, chinchilla, chinchilla."

"We can drink a toast to the chinchillitas," Lester said as the two bounced off the doorframe and staggered out of the store.

Chuck shook his head as he watched them go, wondering if they had been sober at all since they left the store yesterday. Had it only been yesterday since he had last seen them? he wondered. It seemed like ages ago.

He heard a noise and spun around, only to see Sarah emerge from behind one of the Buy More standees. "Oh God, you scared me," he said.

"Sorry," Sarah apologized, sticking her gun back in her waistband. "How come you didn't make them finish cleaning the cage?" she asked. "It's their chinchilla farm."

"I think subjecting the chinchillas to them in this condition could be considered cruelty to animals," Chuck shrugged. "It's bad enough I have to deal with those two. And I don't mean the chinchillas."

Sarah smiled. "Maybe you should let me finish cleaning the cage."

"It's basically done," Chuck said. "I was just about to put the cage back together and get them some fresh food and water."

"Well, let's finish up and then get you some fresh food and water," Sarah said. "You look tired."

"It's been a long day," Chuck agreed. "I feel like going home and just crawling into bed."

"Really?" Sarah asked, the ghost of a smile on her face.

Chuck's eyes widened as he remembered that he was staying at Sarah's apartment. "I… I meant… That is to say…" he stammered.

Sarah's smile grew just a little wider as she headed back to the store room.

Chuck sighed deeply and followed her.

Sarah stepped into the Cage and looked down. "Oh no!" she cried. "The chinchillas!"

Chuck hurried in next to her and looked down to see what she was talking about. The box in which they had left the chinchillas was on its side and the chinchillas were missing. "They've escaped!" he cried. He started to look frantically about the Cage.

"Here, chinchillas!" he called. "Where are you?"

Sarah joined in the search, getting on her hands and knees to look under the work bench.

Predictably, Sarah began a methodical search, dividing the storage room into sectors and carefully scouring each one before moving to the next. Chuck, on the other hand, looked randomly here and there, including looking in places it would have been impossible for the chinchillas to reach.

Occasionally, Chuck would make a little "tck, tck, tck," noise. Finally, Sarah paused. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Looking for the chinchillas," Chuck replied, exasperation in his tone.

"I meant that noise," Sarah said.

"I'm, ah, trying to make chinchilla noises."

"So, you think you can talk to them?" Sarah asked with a grin.

Chuck rolled his eyes at her and went back to his search; but he stopped making noises.

Once they finished combing the back room, Chuck looked at Sarah and shrugged. They turned and headed out into the main part of the store.

Just as Chuck pushed the door open, he heard a crash.

He shook his head. "Jeff! Lester!" he called as he barged out into the store, "I told you I would take care of the…" He froze.

Instead of Jeff and Lester, two men dressed in Buy More maintenance crew coveralls were carrying a large box into the store. He recognized the first immediately - Hassan Nidal a/k/a The Postman: the man he had flashed on earlier. The same man they had seen on the security feed of the North Hollywood Buy More just before the explosion that destroyed that store. The same man that had almost killed Sarah with that same explosion.

Chuck looked quickly at the next man. His eyes glazed over and a series of images flashed through his head: a junked car, the diagram of a bomb, a Mossad file on Red Jihad, a mug shot of the man – Ahmad Qadir – a known Palestinian terrorist, a destroyed school bus, a junked car.

Chuck staggered backward a step, bumping into Sarah. "Chuck," Sarah hissed. "Did you just flash?"

Chuck nodded.

"Hello," Ahmad Qadir said in heavily accented English. "We are here making a delivery for Michael Tucker, the store manager. We were told to simply leave it here." As he spoke, he slowly shifted his weight a little so he could hold the large box with one hand and started to reach into the pocket of his coveralls.

"Chuck, get down!" Sarah cried, pushing Chuck out of the way and reaching for her own gun.

Sarah squeezed off a shot at the younger man and dove out of the line of his return fire. Bullets zinged off the floor as two quick shots barely missed her and thudded into boxes of mini refrigerators on the back shelves.

Sarah squeezed off another shot at Ahmad to keep him down and then tracked over, attempting to locate Hassan. Seeing him ducking into the next aisle, she squeezed off a shot that tore into the only part of him still visible - his calf. There was a muffled cry from Hassan as Sarah shifted her attention back to Ahmad.

Chuck, cringing behind boxes that he fervently hoped held something that would stop bullets, looked frantically about for some means of escape. He was just about to make a dash for the doorway to the back room when one of Ahmad's shots pinged off the door. "Okay, not that way," he muttered.

He leaned forward to look around his makeshift cover, trying to see if he could get to the front of the store and make a run for help. The muzzle flash of Ahmad's gun and the sound of a bullet thudding into the boxes inches from his face sent him scurrying backwards on his hands and knees.

"Chuck!" Sarah called. "Are you okay?"

"Y- Yeah!" Chuck called back. "But I'm trapped."

"Stay down!" Sarah yelled.

Chuck scowled. What did she think he was doing? He looked at the back door again, judging his chances of making it through the door before one of the terrorists shot him. "No, Chuck," he muttered. "Stay down." The back door was in the line of fire and the terrorists were between him and the front door. He closed his eyes as he tried to recall the store layout.

Leaning against the boxes, he felt them jump as another bullet slammed into them. He had to do something. He reached for the only real weapon he had – his cell phone.

Hitting the autodial, he waited as it rang. "Pick up, Casey. Pick up, Casey," he muttered.

"Casey."

"Casey, it's Chuck. Two guys with really big guns and what I assume is a bomb are here in the Buy More. They have Sarah pinned down and…"

"Drop the phone," came a deep, accented voice from behind him. Chuck felt something warm and hard press into the back of his neck.

Chuck slowly raised his hands as he let the cell phone slip from his fingers to clatter to the floor.

"Stand up. Slowly," the voice hissed with what sounded like pain.

'I wish I knew kung fu,' Chuck thought as he slowly rose to his feet, his face a mask of fear and helplessness. Once he was fully standing, he felt the rough material of a Buy More coverall slide across his throat while the barrel of the gun left the back of his neck only to be pressed to his temple.

"You there!" the man behind him yelled. "I have your friend! Come out or I will kill him."

"Sarah!" Chuck called plaintively.

"All right!" Sarah's voice called from behind a stack of boxes at the end of the next aisle. "I'm coming out. Don't shoot."

Sarah slowly straightened, her gun in her raised hands.

Ahmad stood from where he had been crouching, his gun leveled at Sarah. "Drop your weapon!" he called.

"Okay, okay," Sarah said, slowly crouching to lay her gun gently on the floor. Chuck could see her eyes darting back and forth between Ahmad and Hassan, no doubt gauging the possibility of taking them out without harm to Chuck.

Chuck felt a hand press between his shoulder blades and shove him roughly toward Sarah. He stumbled forward and barely managed to not slam into her. He kept his hands raised as he slowly turned around to stand beside Sarah. "Sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, Chuck," Sarah assured him.

'Yeah, right,' he thought, looking at their captors. Hassan limped over to stand next to Ahmad, wincing each time his weight shifted to his injured leg. Chuck glanced down to see that Hassan's right heel left a little red smear on the floor. Chuck felt the bile rise in his throat, but swallowed hard to drive it back down.

Hassan stopped next to Ahmad and leveled his gun at Sarah. His eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on the pistol's grip. Chuck eyes widened. He had dealt with enough bad guys. He knew that look. That murderous glare.

Just then, the doors at the front of the store opened and Casey entered, his hands likewise raised beside his head. Another man, also dressed in Buy More coveralls, walked behind him, a gun pointed at his back. Chuck closed his eyes as he felt the flash begin. But he didn't need the flash to tell him that the man standing before his was none other than Abdul al Fayed. al Fayed was older and grayer than the photos Chuck had seen in the CIA files, and his face was more gaunt and seemed somehow harder. But there would have been no question, even without the flash, that Chuck was looking at the Buy More Bomber.

Chuck opened his eyes and looked at al Fayed. It was the eyes, he decided. The eyes were what were harder - cold, dead eyes that seemed to regard the entire world with contempt. Mr. Colt might have been intimidating, but al Fayed radiated danger and evil the way a fire radiated light and heat.

"This one came driving up a moment ago," al Fayed said, as he shoved Casey forward. He looked over at Chuck and then Sarah. As his eyes met Sarah's a strange look crossed his face. It seemed to Chuck that it was almost a look of recognition. Then al Fayed blinked twice and shook his head a little and the cold, hard sneer he had when entering the store returned.

"These two were in the store," Ahmad said, indicating Chuck and Sarah with a jerk of his gun. "What should we do with them?"

al Fayed shoved Casey again until he was standing next to Chuck and Sarah.

"What happened?" Sarah whispered.

"Got distracted by Bartowski's phone call," Casey practically spat. "The old bastard got the drop on me as I was getting out of the car."

"Sorry," Chuck whispered.

"Silence!" al Fayed barked. His eyes narrowed as he looked over his three prisoners. His eyes never left Sarah as he tilted his head slightly to say to Ahmad, "The bomb will take care of them. Find something to tie them up."