Being Sick is not cool... also New Chapter Preview

I've been laid up with the funk ever since I got back from xmas with family in California, and haven't gotten any work done! Arg. Deadlines are looming like those things that loom. To try to spur myself back from the brink of inactivity, I am posting a preview for the next Chapter of Chuck & Sarah vs. Themselves. Chapter 30, also known as 'the big one.' Enjoy...

From Chapter 30:

Chuck stared at his phone for a long moment. Morgan noticed and frowned. “Something wrong dude?” his friend asked.

After a moment, Chuck shook his head, grabbed Morgan by the assistant-manager vest and pulled him into a bearhug. Morgan's eyebrows tried to climb right off his face as he struggled to free himself from the death-grip. “Dude, what's wrong? Do you have 'the cancer?' I knew I shouldn't have let you smoke that one cigarette in 8th grade.”

Chuck pushed Morgan out to arm's length. “I can't talk about it, Morg,” he said. “I've got to leave right now.”

“No problem. I'll clock you out at five and see you back at the apartment?”

Chuck smiled sadly. “Thanks, buddy,” he said. “You're the best. Goodbye.”

Morgan scratched his head while Chuck stormed out the back door. What had that been about?

Chuck jumped down off the loading dock behind the Buymore, and checked over his shoulder. He pulled his burn phone briefly, using the modifications he'd made to loop the camera that looked down on the back of the store so that Casey wouldn't see him pull out his iPhone and smash it on the concrete. It took him a few seconds of staring at the wrecked iPhone to pull himself together and click the switch on his watch which would send a falsified GPS signal showing his return to the apartment he no longer shared with Morgan. 

He walked with purpose around to the curb, where he pulled his watch off and dumped it into the garbage bin at the bus stop. This was probably the most dangerous part, standing out front waiting for the bus. He wasn't waiting long, only a few minutes, before a bus pulled up heading in the right direction. He got on and spent about half the cash he had on him on bus fare.

Even with LA traffic, the bus made good time, and he got off at the main bus terminal, bouncing the key to locker 313 on his palm. He wondered briefly if there was any significance to the number or if Sarah had just picked randomly. At that moment, Casey might be calling to arrange Sarah's replacement, or he might even have discovered Chuck's absence already. This part of the plan was all relying on Sarah to give him time to run, and he just didn't know for sure whether she had succeeded or not. There was no way to know without texting her on the burner, and she might still be in a room with Casey and unable to reply. Chuck tried to look everywhere at once without seeming like an enormous spaz and standing out to the people in the bus terminal as he walked to the line of lockers. He glanced around worriedly when he found the correct locker, but he didn't spot anything suspicious before he fumbled the key in the lock. 

How long would it take Casey to double check the GPS, and see that the signal was coming from the watch at his desk, when his room was empty? Chuck could only alter the feed if he was nearby, because the RF emitter he'd used when he modified his burn phone only had a range of a couple miles, and he couldn't depend on the signal going through. And what if Casey had another tracker on him? He probably did. Which is what made this whole bit, the initial escape, the most dangerous part of the plan. If Casey caught on fast enough he might get to the bus station before chuck could head for LAX. It all went through his mind quickly, almost the same feeling he got when he flashed, the variables and the possibilities and the contingencies and counter-contingencies all threatening to panic him. 

A thread of that fear turned into a worry that Casey had already discovered the plot and had beaten him to the locker, that a dye pack would go off in his face like in that heist movie that he couldn't remember the name of right then. Chuck took a deep breath, turned the key in the lock and slowly opened the locker, eyes winced closed against whatever would happen. After a few seconds, he squinted through one eye into the locker, before easing both eyes open fully.

In the locker was a black duffel bag. Chuck hauled it out and slung it over his shoulder before slamming the locker closed. He headed for the bathroom and found an empty stall, then sat down, duffel across his lap. Chuck fished out the burner, and sent Sarah a text. His hands were shaking.

Freaking out a little.

He knew if she was in Castle being reassigned just then, he shouldn't expect an immediate response, and the burners were a big damn secret so she would have it on silent mode, but still, he was disappointed when a minute passed and nothing came back. He shook himself out of the funk he was in and opened the duffel.

Inside he found a Ziploc bag with instructions in Sarah's handwriting, and a handful of ID packets. Each had a driver's license, and a couple of credit cards and some cash all rubber banded together. Chuck took the Ziploc out and set it on the toilet paper dispenser, digging out a leather wallet and five banded stacks of twenty dollar bills. He grinned, noticing that the wallet was painted to look like a classic NES controller. She knew him too well, but, he reflected, that was far from a bad thing. Chuck quickly transferred a couple hundred dollars of the money as well as the driver's license and credit cards bearing a post it marked '1,' for his first identity, into the wallet.

There was also a smaller duffel inside the first, in which Chuck stowed his nerd herd uniform and his old wallet, and every scrap of clothing he wore, without bothering to take his own money out first. Also in the larger duffel, the one he would take with him, were two changes of clothes, a money belt, and a bug sweeper.

He passed the little electronic device carefully over everything and was a little surprised. There was no trace of any signals coming from the remains of his Nerd Herd outfit or his wallet, or, as he stood mostly naked, every inch of his body. No microbots in his system this time.

Casey must be slipping. Or confident Chuck wasn't going to run anymore. He hoped it was the former. Things would be a lot simpler if Casey lost a step on this one.

Once the smaller duffel was stuffed with everything he was to leave behind, Chuck placed the other ids and the bulk cash into the money belt and strapped it on, redressing in a pair of slacks from the black duffel. An undershirt went on over the money belt before a blue button down that was a little roomy so the bulge of the money belt wouldn't be as apparent. Chuck went through the rest of the bag.

In an exterior pocket of the larger duffel bag that would serve as his carry on during his flight, Chuck found an iPod Touch as well, with a card taped to it detailing the flights he would have to book. He stood on the seat of the toilet and peered over the top of the stall carefully to make sure he was alone in the bathroom, before straightening and knocking one of the tiles out of the ceiling so he could stuff the duffel with the last remnants of his old life up into the false ceiling. His hand shook as he replaced the tile, but no one walked in during the awkward moment. 

Chuck walked from the bus station to the closest Starbucks, using the iPod to access their wireless internet to sign up for an anonymous email address through which to access his new identity's Southwest Airlines account. It took him just a few minutes to cash in the open ended ticket Sarah had prepared. He checked in online and made a note of the confirmation number and barely made it back to the bus terminal in time to grab a seat on the next bus out to LAX.

During the bus ride, he checked the iPod, and found that Sarah had copied almost his entire music library onto it. It felt good that he wasn't leaving everything from his life behind. Once the bus dropped him off at the airport, Chuck printed his boarding pass and was ready for the first leg of the three day wild-goose-chase on which he was about to lead the intelligence community at large.

To Be Continued...

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And I feel refreshed. Time to get cracking.