Tempted Ch 13 - Caught
And as promised, immediately following ch 12, here's the next bit. Some brief but fatal violence, as well as vague description of wounds, as fair warning for those out there with lower tolerance levels for that sort of thing.
Usual disclaimers apply!
Here it is.
“Well, shit.”
It was John’s voice, slightly guttural and so him, but he was handling that gun as naturally as if it was another appendage, which was completely foreign to her concept of him. The man on the floor between them wriggled and Casey growled. The wriggling stopped. Ellie shivered.
“Uh,” Chuck said into the awful silence. “Uh - you’re having a bad dream?” His voice cracked on the last word. Casey sent a look over his shoulder at her brother that conveyed disgust better than any other facial grimace Ellie had ever seen.
“We’re role playing,” John said to Ellie. “A game.”
“What?” Ellie managed to gurgle out. This didn’t look like any game she knew.
“Yeah, yeah,” Chuck inserted, “a game. Don’t freak out, OK?” Ellie’s numbness lifted enough that she was able to narrow her eyes at him in disbelief. Chuck left Sarah’s side to approach his sister. Ellie’s head swung back and forth and he halted, turning his endearing please-believe-me-I’m-just-a-fumbling-computer-nerd look on her.
“I’m not - I’m not stupid!” She told him, angry that he’d even try. “The way you all were, when I walked in here - the, the looks on your faces”- she shook her head, again, and then it just wouldn’t stop; without her conscious control it continued to rotate right to left and back again in denial. “None of you are that good at acting. And certainly not for some stupid game!” She managed another step backward, until she was on the other side of the threshold. The increasingly warm morning sunlight spilled across her, an absurd contrast to the cold shock twining around her intestines. “If you can’t give me a good explanation for this, I’m calling the cops.”
John knelt beside the man on the floor, un-cuffed one hand, and re-cuffed him to a nearby chair. If this was a game, Ellie’s inner voice demanded aggressively, hadn’t she just effectively ruined it? What was the point of continuing? The restrained men should be climbing to their feet by now, laughing at the misunderstanding and being introduced. Instead, the one John had just re-arranged was watching them all with a sullen expression, and the one under Sarah looked to be unconscious.
John hadn't put his gun away while he moved, and as he returned to his feet Ellie realized her hands were at chest height, palms facing out. She realized it because she saw John eye her posture. His jaw tightened. For the briefest moment, there was an expression on his face which, even as confused and frightened as she was, twisted painfully at Ellie’s heart.
Until he shoved that gun into his waist band as though he’d done it a thousand times, and snapped “watch her” at Chuck. Guns and waistbands ... something niggled at the back of Ellie’s brain. Hadn’t there been, that momentous day by the fountain, something at the small of Casey’s back that had been rather gun-shaped? Yes, there had been, and he’d steered her away from it. That whole time they’d been ... doing what they’d been doing, he’d been wearing a gun. And that time she was sure he knew she was watching him, even though he couldn’t possibly see her; and the way it was impossible to sneak up on Sarah - so many things clicked into place, all at once.
Sarah had risen now, too; her gun was just as real as Casey’s, judging by the way she held it. Ellie swallowed. If she tried to just run, would those two let her? She didn’t think so. And she surely wouldn’t have time to grab Chuck. Of course, Chuck didn’t look as though he thought he needed grabbing. He seemed … what? Not at ease (did he ever?), but certainly in the know.
“Getting the other one,” Casey said obliquely to Sarah, and he disappeared in the direction of Chuck’s bedroom.
“Ellie”- Chuck began, stepping toward her again.
Something clicked near Ellie’s ear. Chuck’s forward advance stalled, and she saw him blanch. Frighteningly, Sarah’s gun rose in a blur to aim unwaveringly at Ellie, who stumbled backwards in reaction - and into the arms of a stranger.
“No!” Chuck gasped out, as Ellie’s stunned brained processed that Sarah wasn’t looking at her, but at the man who now held both Ellie’s arms down, harshly, with one of his. She struggled, and he ‘tut’ed at her and waggled something into her peripheral vision. She stilled as she saw the shape. That was a gun to her temple, a gun that had gone click.
Chuck lurched forward.
“Move and I kill her,” the man told him in a voice that was smooth and languid and really incredibly unlike how Ellie imagined any bad guy’s voice should sound.
“Chuck!” Sarah snapped commandingly, sounding very un-Sarah-like. Chuck stood still, his eyes huge and fearful.
“Please,” he babbled, “she has no idea what’s going on, she’s a civilian, she’s”-
“Shut it,” the hostage-taker returned, calmly. “Let my team loose. Do it now and you might all get to leave here alive.” He smelled good, Ellie registered dazedly. Clean, with some kind of sandalwood soap. That seemed more wrong than his non-bad-guy voice.
“For how long?” Sarah returned, her chin up and gun still trained. Somewhere beneath her numb fright, Ellie was aware of a wash of disbelief at how insane her world had become. Chuck was still standing where he’d been told to stand, but his eyes were narrowing and his jaw was beginning to jut forward. Ellie recognized that look. Terror for him clawing at her throat, she shook her head frantically at her brother; the muscled arm around her torso slid up and harsh fingers wrapped around her throat, making it difficult to breathe and effectively stilling her head movement.
“For as long as it takes to get what we need,” the vile, smooth-voiced, clean-scented man said conversationally to Sarah. “I don’t see any untying happening. I’m losing my patience.” The gun that hovered just out of Ellie’s peripheral vision bumped her temple once, deliberately. Ellie felt her chin beginning to tremble.
Chuck raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Just take me,” he said. “I’m the one you want. I’m the Intersect.”
Whatever that meant, it was important; Ellie read that in the sudden tension of the body pressed to hers, and in Sarah’s angry expression. There was a buzzing in her ears. Ellie tried to swallow against it, but all the saliva seemed to have deserted her mouth.
Avoiding Ellie’s desperate eyes, Chuck took a deliberate step forward -
And stopped again, as something off to Ellie’s right popped. The man holding her jerked to the left and abruptly lost all his tension. She was jarred forward as he sagged down against her, his arms falling and his gun clattering down; then he just sort of slid off her back.
Uncomprehending, and afraid of her own movement, Ellie edged her head around in the direction of that popping sound. There stood John Casey, bigger than life but heart-stoppingly real, next to the open window into Chuck's bedroom. Sunlight glinted dully off the barrel of the not-fake gun that he held steadliy in two hands. Ellie startled, belatedly, before registering that the weapon was trained on the body that was slumped on the ground behind her. He’d shot him, she numbly realized. John Casey had just killed the man holding her hostage.
Ellie’s limbs were limp but she managed to turn. Her body running by rote, she began to bend to seek for a pulse in the hostage-taker. He was looking very dead, courtesy of the holes in each of his temples. One was much larger than the other; entrance and exit, her medically-trained mind mechanically assessed the wounds left by a bullet’s through-and-out path. But John was suddenly there big and blurry at her side, all efficient energy as he shoved the body away from her feet. Somehow he beat her to the pulse checking. Good enough - her hands had begun to shake, while his were steady as a surgeon’s should be. He looked as rock-solid as he ever had. And he’d just saved her life.
So he couldn’t be the bad guy, could he?
Usual disclaimers apply!
Here it is.
“Well, shit.”
It was John’s voice, slightly guttural and so him, but he was handling that gun as naturally as if it was another appendage, which was completely foreign to her concept of him. The man on the floor between them wriggled and Casey growled. The wriggling stopped. Ellie shivered.
“Uh,” Chuck said into the awful silence. “Uh - you’re having a bad dream?” His voice cracked on the last word. Casey sent a look over his shoulder at her brother that conveyed disgust better than any other facial grimace Ellie had ever seen.
“We’re role playing,” John said to Ellie. “A game.”
“What?” Ellie managed to gurgle out. This didn’t look like any game she knew.
“Yeah, yeah,” Chuck inserted, “a game. Don’t freak out, OK?” Ellie’s numbness lifted enough that she was able to narrow her eyes at him in disbelief. Chuck left Sarah’s side to approach his sister. Ellie’s head swung back and forth and he halted, turning his endearing please-believe-me-I’m-just-a-fumbling-computer-nerd look on her.
“I’m not - I’m not stupid!” She told him, angry that he’d even try. “The way you all were, when I walked in here - the, the looks on your faces”- she shook her head, again, and then it just wouldn’t stop; without her conscious control it continued to rotate right to left and back again in denial. “None of you are that good at acting. And certainly not for some stupid game!” She managed another step backward, until she was on the other side of the threshold. The increasingly warm morning sunlight spilled across her, an absurd contrast to the cold shock twining around her intestines. “If you can’t give me a good explanation for this, I’m calling the cops.”
John knelt beside the man on the floor, un-cuffed one hand, and re-cuffed him to a nearby chair. If this was a game, Ellie’s inner voice demanded aggressively, hadn’t she just effectively ruined it? What was the point of continuing? The restrained men should be climbing to their feet by now, laughing at the misunderstanding and being introduced. Instead, the one John had just re-arranged was watching them all with a sullen expression, and the one under Sarah looked to be unconscious.
John hadn't put his gun away while he moved, and as he returned to his feet Ellie realized her hands were at chest height, palms facing out. She realized it because she saw John eye her posture. His jaw tightened. For the briefest moment, there was an expression on his face which, even as confused and frightened as she was, twisted painfully at Ellie’s heart.
Until he shoved that gun into his waist band as though he’d done it a thousand times, and snapped “watch her” at Chuck. Guns and waistbands ... something niggled at the back of Ellie’s brain. Hadn’t there been, that momentous day by the fountain, something at the small of Casey’s back that had been rather gun-shaped? Yes, there had been, and he’d steered her away from it. That whole time they’d been ... doing what they’d been doing, he’d been wearing a gun. And that time she was sure he knew she was watching him, even though he couldn’t possibly see her; and the way it was impossible to sneak up on Sarah - so many things clicked into place, all at once.
Sarah had risen now, too; her gun was just as real as Casey’s, judging by the way she held it. Ellie swallowed. If she tried to just run, would those two let her? She didn’t think so. And she surely wouldn’t have time to grab Chuck. Of course, Chuck didn’t look as though he thought he needed grabbing. He seemed … what? Not at ease (did he ever?), but certainly in the know.
“Getting the other one,” Casey said obliquely to Sarah, and he disappeared in the direction of Chuck’s bedroom.
“Ellie”- Chuck began, stepping toward her again.
Something clicked near Ellie’s ear. Chuck’s forward advance stalled, and she saw him blanch. Frighteningly, Sarah’s gun rose in a blur to aim unwaveringly at Ellie, who stumbled backwards in reaction - and into the arms of a stranger.
“No!” Chuck gasped out, as Ellie’s stunned brained processed that Sarah wasn’t looking at her, but at the man who now held both Ellie’s arms down, harshly, with one of his. She struggled, and he ‘tut’ed at her and waggled something into her peripheral vision. She stilled as she saw the shape. That was a gun to her temple, a gun that had gone click.
Chuck lurched forward.
“Move and I kill her,” the man told him in a voice that was smooth and languid and really incredibly unlike how Ellie imagined any bad guy’s voice should sound.
“Chuck!” Sarah snapped commandingly, sounding very un-Sarah-like. Chuck stood still, his eyes huge and fearful.
“Please,” he babbled, “she has no idea what’s going on, she’s a civilian, she’s”-
“Shut it,” the hostage-taker returned, calmly. “Let my team loose. Do it now and you might all get to leave here alive.” He smelled good, Ellie registered dazedly. Clean, with some kind of sandalwood soap. That seemed more wrong than his non-bad-guy voice.
“For how long?” Sarah returned, her chin up and gun still trained. Somewhere beneath her numb fright, Ellie was aware of a wash of disbelief at how insane her world had become. Chuck was still standing where he’d been told to stand, but his eyes were narrowing and his jaw was beginning to jut forward. Ellie recognized that look. Terror for him clawing at her throat, she shook her head frantically at her brother; the muscled arm around her torso slid up and harsh fingers wrapped around her throat, making it difficult to breathe and effectively stilling her head movement.
“For as long as it takes to get what we need,” the vile, smooth-voiced, clean-scented man said conversationally to Sarah. “I don’t see any untying happening. I’m losing my patience.” The gun that hovered just out of Ellie’s peripheral vision bumped her temple once, deliberately. Ellie felt her chin beginning to tremble.
Chuck raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Just take me,” he said. “I’m the one you want. I’m the Intersect.”
Whatever that meant, it was important; Ellie read that in the sudden tension of the body pressed to hers, and in Sarah’s angry expression. There was a buzzing in her ears. Ellie tried to swallow against it, but all the saliva seemed to have deserted her mouth.
Avoiding Ellie’s desperate eyes, Chuck took a deliberate step forward -
And stopped again, as something off to Ellie’s right popped. The man holding her jerked to the left and abruptly lost all his tension. She was jarred forward as he sagged down against her, his arms falling and his gun clattering down; then he just sort of slid off her back.
Uncomprehending, and afraid of her own movement, Ellie edged her head around in the direction of that popping sound. There stood John Casey, bigger than life but heart-stoppingly real, next to the open window into Chuck's bedroom. Sunlight glinted dully off the barrel of the not-fake gun that he held steadliy in two hands. Ellie startled, belatedly, before registering that the weapon was trained on the body that was slumped on the ground behind her. He’d shot him, she numbly realized. John Casey had just killed the man holding her hostage.
Ellie’s limbs were limp but she managed to turn. Her body running by rote, she began to bend to seek for a pulse in the hostage-taker. He was looking very dead, courtesy of the holes in each of his temples. One was much larger than the other; entrance and exit, her medically-trained mind mechanically assessed the wounds left by a bullet’s through-and-out path. But John was suddenly there big and blurry at her side, all efficient energy as he shoved the body away from her feet. Somehow he beat her to the pulse checking. Good enough - her hands had begun to shake, while his were steady as a surgeon’s should be. He looked as rock-solid as he ever had. And he’d just saved her life.
So he couldn’t be the bad guy, could he?