A Knight in shining Nerd-Herd armour
(Chapter 2)
Chuck saw Casey's hand come away from his stomach, covered in blood, and rushed to him.
"Oh, God! John?" Chuck crouched beside him, not knowing what to do to help him. "Please be OK, please, please-"
"Chuck. Chuck." Casey reached out a hand, touching his palm to Chuck's cheek, and the contact seemed to get through the younger man's panic. "I'll be fine. Trust me; I've been hurt worse."
Their captor crouched in front of them, eyeing Casey warily. As his eyes wandered over them, settling on the uniforms they were both wearing and the ID tag still clipped to Chuck's shirt, his caution became disbelief.
"Buy More? Nerd Herd?" He laughed. "What the hell did you think some minimum-wage shop assistant could do? You might have got lucky once but try it again and you'll find out just how outmatched you are."
Casey growled at him. "You're real lucky I didn't kill that asshole."
"Now you listen to me, and you listen good," the man said, leaning closer. "You stay put and you shut up and maybe I'll let you out of here." He glanced at Chuck, sitting pressed to Casey's side, fingers holding tight to Casey's hand, and smiled menacingly. Knowing he'd just found his leverage, he reached out, resting the barrel of the pistol he held against Chuck's forehead.
Chuck let out a whimper and tried to back away but there was nowhere for him to go as he was already sitting against the wall. Casey could see the sheer terror in his eyes as he heard the low click of the gun being cocked.
"No more heroics, shop-boy, or I use him as target practice," he said. "Got it?"
Casey nodded, glaring daggers at the man but knowing that he had no choice, and heaved a sigh of relief when the gun was removed.
As the door closed, the man leaving, Chuck took a few deep breaths to calm himself.
"He's gone, Chuck," Casey said. "You OK?"
Chuck turned to face him and Casey could see that he was shaking.
"He's not going to let us go, is he?"
Casey had a good idea of the answer to that question but he had no intention of voicing it. If it were him, he wouldn't let a man go who had attacked one of his team, and who could identify at least one of them. Not to mention the threat he'd made to the police. When the police didn't come through with whatever they had demanded, the robbers would be back for their hostage, then another.
"I'll get you out of this, Chuck," Casey said, reaching for the gun he always kept strapped to his ankle in the concealed holster. "I won't let them hurt you."
Unfortunately, when he tried to get up he was painfully reminded of the bullet wound in his stomach. Even the act of trying to stand brought a gasp from his lips, a burning pain shooting through his body. This wasn't going to work; he might be able to pick off a few of them but he wasn't at his best and he didn't want to risk Chuck's life if he failed.
Chuck could see the answer in Casey's eyes as he put a hand on his shoulder to make him stay still. Keeping watch for anyone coming into the room, he reached over and took the gun from Casey's fingers.
"Show me how to use this."
"I don't know if-"
Chuck nodded. "Casey, please. The quicker we get out of here the quicker we can get you fixed up. You're not doing too well, no matter how much you're pretending; I live with a doctor, remember?" His resolved slipped a fraction as he added quietly, "I don't want to lose you."
This was a bad idea, Casey thought, but it wasn't Chuck's fault. He should have trained the kid how to look after himself, how to use weapons, hand to hand techniques. As soon as they got out of this mess, he was going to, he decided, and now was as good a time as any to start. He repositioned the gun in Chuck's hand so he held it correctly, ignoring the curious looks from their fellow hostages, and started talking. He only had time to run through it quickly, but he hoped it was enough. He took a small aerosol canister from his pocket, one that Chuck recognised straight away.
"Why do you have that?"
Casey handed it to him. "I thought it might come in useful."
Chuck arched a brow at him, curious. The tiny canister held a chemical agent that, with one spray to the face, could knock out a grown man for about six hours. As far as Chuck knew, they were only supposed to use it during missions, not at work.
"Now this I'm more comfortable with. There's about five doses per canister, right? That's more than enough."
Casey avoided his eyes as he said, "Actually, it's more like three left." Under Chuck's disapproving stare, he said defensively, "It was only a couple of times; it was either that or shoot him."
"Who are you-?" He stared at Casey in disbelief as he worked it out. "You used this on Morgan?"
"You didn't really think he spent so much time asleep in the AV room, did you?"
Chuck glared. "We are going to talk about this when we get home," he said. "And you better apologise to Morgan."
"Yes, sir," Casey grumbled sarcastically. "Not like he'll even know why I'm apologising." He sighed, looking down at the gun in Chuck's hand, his expression shifting back to focussed soldier. "Please be careful," he said. "And remember-"
"I know- pick off the weakest or isolated ones first." Chuck smiled, leaning close to kiss Casey. "I have to do this. And besides, I always kicked Morgan's butt at first-person shooter games."
"Yes, but these guys shoot back," Casey muttered as Chuck eased the door open silently.
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Chuck could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage as he peered out of the office to see the man standing guard nearby. It was the same man whose wrist Casey had broken earlier, and he was standing with his back to them at present. Perfect.
Creeping closer, Chuck stood up when he was about two paces away from the man and, canister in one hand, he tapped the man on the shoulder with the other. As soon as he turned, Chuck was ready, giving him a blast with the knock-out gas. The man dropped like a stone. Quickly, Chuck grabbed him around his ankles and started to drag him toward the office and opened the door.
"Help me out, would you?" he whispered.
Two of the other customers scrambled up and dragged the unconscious man inside, stuffing him awkwardly under a desk. If anyone else came in here, they wouldn't be able to see him at least. Chuck took one last look at Casey; the bloodied patch in his shirt was growing at a pace that concerned Chuck. Just the thought that he was doing this for Casey, gave him that extra burst of courage, enough to stop him really thinking this through and running to hide under the nearest desk like his instincts were telling him to.
Leaning out around the corner once more, he saw that the way was clear and left the office. He scuttled across to the security door that led behind the counters, keeping low to the ground and moving silently, glad that he wore his sneakers to work. They might not be up to uniform code at the Buy More but they were damn handy for moving quietly. Here, he would have to stand up in order to type the code into the keypad- helpfully supplied by one of the cashiers- but there was no other choice. The only other way down to the main vault, where two of the men had veered off to as soon as they had entered the bank, was at the far end of the bank's lobby, through another security door that the robbers had already smashed through.
Two men in black, masks now pushed up off their faces, were working with acetylene torches to break through the steel security vault. Chuck watched them for a moment, then ducked back around the corner to plan his next move. There was no way he could take on two of them so he needed to separate them. He smiled, and dug into his pocket.
The shiny quarter rolled across the floor and bounced off the rubber sole of a boot, making its owner look down.
"Where'd that come from?" his partner-in-crime asked.
He shook his head. "Don't know. Keep working; I'll check it out."
Chuck pressed himself back against the wall, fitting his body into the shallow alcove. The footsteps came closer and the first thing he saw was the pistol in the man's hand, ready to be used on whatever or whoever he found. Five paces away, four, three…
The look on the man's face was almost comical as Chuck's hand darted out and sprayed him, a mixture of disbelief and shock as his eyes rolled back in his head. Chuck caught him so that he wouldn't make a noise as he hit the floor and manoeuvred him through the door he had been hiding against. It turned out to be a supply cupboard, but there was enough room to prop his victim up against a shelf and close the door again.
Two down, two to go, Chuck told himself, feeling surprised that he had managed to get this far.
When he heard footsteps coming into the vault room, the remaining robber asked,
"Everything OK?"
"Not exactly."
At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, he spun around. And found himself staring at the barrel of Chuck's gun.
"Take your hand away from that weapon, if you don't mind," Chuck told him. "Can I ask you something? Why didn't you just get the manager to open the vault? That's what they always do in the movies." He saw the confused look in the robber's eyes and sighed. "Never mind. Look, I'm sorry about this," he said and then aimed the aerosol spray at him.
Stepping over the unconscious body, Chuck shook the canister, dismayed to find that it was empty. Just as Casey had said.
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Out in the lobby, still keeping watch on the movements of the police outside the window, the one remaining thief suddenly realised that something was wrong. It was too quiet; there had been no sound from the hostages for a while now, nothing at all. With one last cursory glance at the window, he palmed the pistol and went to check it out.
That was strange, there was no guard. He was going to kill that imbecile for leaving the hostages unguarded, the thought as he marched up to the office door. Inside, the hostages all looked up as he burst in. He did a quick count and-
"Where is he?" he demanded of Casey, seeing the empty space where Chuck had previously been sitting. "I warned you what would happen if you tried to play the hero."
He cocked the gun and scowled at Casey. "I hope you said goodbye to your little friend because he's a dead man," he said as he stormed back out and slammed the door.
To be continued…