geeky_agent | (no subject)

(no subject)

July 10, 2012
9:12 AM

After driving around, Chris and Jack found a drugstore nearby that was open. Armed with a short list of supplies, she went in while Jack stayed behind with their attacker.

The store itself was brightly lit and nearly empty, only a few employees inside. It didn't take long for Chris to find everything they needed, the large bottle of extra-strength aspirin being the most important item in their makeshift first-aid kit. Hurrying up to the front of the store, she was anxious to get out of here. It's not until she reached the front of the aisle that she notices the cop standing at the checkout desk, chatting with the clerk.

At least, Chris hopes it's just idle chatter. Ducking back into the aisle, she pretends to be checking out the various kinds of snack bars, even throwing a few into her basket. When she hears the doors of the store open, she peeks around again and watches the cop leave.

It's not until he's completely out of the store that she moves forward, walking up to the check-out desk and unloading her basket. Remembering that she might have a large bruise on her forehead, Chris is careful to keep her head down, pretending to be interested in the magazines nearby.

Once she's out of the store, Chris lets out a sigh of relief and hurries towards the van.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jack doesn't breathe until he sees the police cruiser leave the lot, and Chris leaving the store a minute or two behind it. When he'd seen the squad car pull in, he'd immediately started wondering what he would do if Chris was caught. Leaving was probably what he should do, but he's not sure he'd just be able to drive away, not when she'd likely be taken to CTU and interrogated. Doing something might only make things worse, though, and if he got caught it was almost as good as game over.

It's hard to believe, both that Palmer is really dead and that everyone wants him for the murder. How could anyone think that he would actually do that; would actually kill someone he counted as a friend? Eight years before, someone had tried to set him up for the same thing, and he'd been framed; now it seems that things have come full circle, only this time, Palmer is actually dead, as hard as that is to believe.

He opens the door for her, wanting to just hold her for a minute now that the enormity of the situation they're in is really starting to hit him, but knowing that they don't have time. "Did you find everything?" he asks, taking the bag from her hands.

"Yeah, and some extras like granola bars and water." She gives his hand a small squeeze while passing the bag over, wanting to hug him if not collapse in his arms.

Looking at the exit where the cop just drove through Chris asks, "You don't think the cop paid any attention to us, do you?"

"I don't know; if he did, we'll find out soon enough," he says, trying to sound calmer and more focussed than he feels. A headache is starting to build behind his eyes, but he's forcing himself to ignore it; he's not the one who just headbutted someone after all. "Until then we can't let ourselves worry about it. We should find somewhere else to park for a while, though, somewhere we won't be noticed."

He starts up the van again, glancing warily out toward the street as he pulls out of the parking space, taking note of the cars, getting an idea of what traffic should look like so he can spot anyone driving erratically.

"All right. I think if we head west, about two miles, we'll come to the giant mall. Westfield? I think we could just go the parking lot." The hiding in plain site was a little risky but short of driving out towards the desert again, there weren't many places they could go where there wouldn't be many people around.

Jack nods. "Okay, I know where that is. We might be able to find a similar van to swap plates with as well," he says, turning onto the street and heading for the mall, eyes checking the mirrors every few seconds, watching for anything suspicious. It doesn't look like anyone's following them, but that doesn't help him relax at all. Maybe the cop back at the pharmacy didn't notice anything, but a passing squad car has. Maybe he's just lost his touch and they're being followed by someone who's an expert at tailing people.

They don't talk along the way, but Jack finds Chris' hand without taking his eyes off the road, squeezing it in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. Soon, they've arrived at the mall and he picks a parking spot well away from the doors, but not so isolated as to be conspicuous. "Okay, keep a lookout for anyone approaching."

Her hand lingers in his and she wishes that they didn't have to deal with this. That they could just go somewhere, maybe live their lives in Milliways till this all blew over. (And it had to because Jack was innocent and no one could believe he'd kill David Palmer)

"All right."

But they couldn't. Chris takes her hand away and digs through the bag for the asprin, every so often looking up at the cars around them.

Quickly kissing Chris on the cheek as he takes the bag from her hands, he hops out of the van, taking a look around at the surrounding cars as he heads to the back of the van. Their attacker is awake, probably being bounced around in the back of the van, but besides looking a little groggy, a grey pallor and the sheen of sweat on his face, it looks like he's not going into shock.

"Make any kind of noise and I'll shoot you; setting up the meeting will be easier with you alive, but I can still do it without you," Jack says, pulling the door closed behind him, then fixing the attacker with a stare. "Understand me?"

The man nods, and Jack gets down to work, pulling out the latex gloves from the first-aid kit, then covering the wounds with a thick layer of antibiotic ointment and gauze pads. When he's finished, he tighens the belt and tie around the wounds again, just to make sure they're not going to bleed more after he's poked and prodded at them.

Pulling off the gloves and putting them in the drugstore bag, he looks over the back of the seat into the front of the van. "You've still got the phone and the battery?"

"Hmm?" Is the response as she looks over her shoulder at Jack. "Yeah. Why?"

"Pop the battery in for a second, just to see if Kim's called back," he says, glancing at his watch. They should still have time to get to the abandoned refinery without their contact getting suspicious. If things had gone as planned, their attackers would have had to take care of their bodies, after all; a thought he shies away from thinking about too much.

Chris does as he says, when nothing shows up, she looks through the list of incoming calls. Nothing from Kim or anyone from CTU.

"No, she hasn't," she frowns as she says this, wondering if something had gone wrong. Almost thirty minutes had passed since she had last called. "It's busy at CTU. Maybe she can't get away."

"Yeah," he says, though he doesn't believe it even as he says it. Reaching over the seat he grabs the aspirin bottle holding it up in front of their attacker's face.

"Listen very carefully. We are going to the meeting with your contact, and if he's not standing in the middle of the refinery, you're going to get this guy to come out of whatever hiding spot he might be in. Say anything suspicious and I'll kill you. Do anything to put either of us in danger, and I'll kill you. Do what you're told and maybe I won't decide to get creative when asking you a few more questions," he says, using a tone that clearly says he isn't exaggerating about the killing him part.

Slowly the attacker nods, and Jack gives him two aspirin tablets before climbing back into the front of the van. He's still not sure how exactly they're going to do this, particularly without knowing the layout of the refinery or exactly who they're dealing with. There's as good a chance that the contact will blow the van up on sight as that he'll be intending to make good on the offer to pay the goons. Suddenly, Jack's filled with the feeling that he's out of his depth, and the worry that if he fucks this up it's not just his life at stake.

"We'd better head for the meet," he says, turning the engine on again. "When we get there, I want you to take the phone and two of the guns and get out before we reach the spot. Work your way over to the spot on foot, and stay behind cover."

"And what are you going to do?" She's not too keen on hiding in the bushes while he goes to face these people alone.

"I'm going to try and draw whoever hired these guys out into the open, using him as bait," Jack says, jerking his head in the direction of the back of the van. "I'll need you to provide cover in case things get dangerous."

There was so much that could go wrong with this scenario and so many ways they could both end up dead. After a moment, Chris asks, "How are you so sure they'll care about him?"

Jack's quiet for a moment, looking at the road, at the mirrors, but not at her. He can't be sure; that's the part that's got his stomach knotted and his shoulders rigid with tension. There are no guarantees, and he's flying blind, here. Worst of all, it's not just his life that he's risking, but somehow he has a feeling that if he pulled over right now and asked her--or ordered her--to get out and call CTU to come pick her up, she'd refuse. Not to mention that he needs the backup, as much as he doesn't want to put her in danger, like so many other people he's cared about.

"At the very least, this guy will want to tie up the loose ends. He'll have to be there to do that," Jack says, quietly.

It's clear from the way Jack's not looking at her that he's about as thrilled with this idea as she was. Unless they came up with another plan, arguing wasn't going to change their options.

Chris touches his shoulder, a small gesture of comfort. "Let's do this."

He nods, driving as fast as he can without drawing attention to them. He circles the abandoned refinery, checking out all the approaches as well as the layout of the site.

"The meeting is in that open area near the tanks; I'll drop you off behind the control building on the north side, and I need you to make your way south toward the meeting point from there. I'll drive in from the east entrance. You've got two of the guns and extra clips?" he asks, scanning the area before pulling over near a hole in the chain-link fence around the property.

Chris looks out the window as he talks, trying to map out in her mind what Jack's telling her. Nodding, she just murmurs "Yeah."

This was it.

Her hand is on the handle and she keeps it there, not moving to open the door just yet. Suddenly, Chris turns towards him and her hand curls behind his neck to pull him close. She kisses Jack, her lips dry and her movements more frantic than passionate.

He's a little surprised, but he kisses her back with equal urgency, wanting to hold onto her instead of taking this risk. If they don't, however, they'll have to start running, and they'll never be able to stop. Their only way out of this nightmare is to find some way to prove he didn't have anything to do with Palmer's death, and at the moment this seems to be their only option.

He forces himself to pull away from her; they don't have time for this right now. "Go," he says, his voice hoarse. "I love you."

"Love you too," she whispers, relunctantly pulling away from him. She opens the door and, with one more look to him over her shoulder, steps outside.

Moving towards the hole in the fence, Chris crawls through, wishing again that she hadn't worn a skirt as her bare knee scrapes against the gravel. At least she'd been able to pick up sensible (if very cheap) tennis shoes at the drugstore.

He waits just long enough to see her get through the fence, before he turns to the attacker in the back. "Showtime. I'm going to drive us to the gate and then you're going to take it the rest of the way; I can handle the gas pedal, and I'll uncuff you when we get to the meeting point. Remember what I said--anything funny and I won't hesitate to shoot you. Got it?"

At the man's slow nod, Jack climbed out of the driver's seat and helped him into the passenger seat, then drove around to the gate. Crouching down on the floor he helps his attacker move into the driver's seat, reaching with his own foot to press down on the gas as he slumps down in the passenger seat, just peeking above the dashboard. The car starts to roll, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
There's no going back now.

Forcing her self not to look back, Chris makes her way to the tanks. She's careful to stay out of open sight, keeping close to the buildings and moving slowly. She's tempted to run, it seems counterintuitive not to, but all her training forces her to keep a steady pace. Looking around her, the place seems deserted and when she's not expecting someone to jump out and shoot her, Chris wonders if this is the right place at all.

Eventually, she makes it over to the tanks and hunches down behind one of them.

The van pulls into the open area near the tanks, empty and quiet for the moment. Jack peers over the dashboard, trying not to be seen, his heart hammering in his chest. Somehow he needs to keep whoever is meeting them from leaving, though he's not sure how he's going to do that when he can't be sure that he'll even show up, that he hasn't rigged the place to explode or have a sniper somewhere. At least it doesn't seem like the latter, as his attacker turns the van so it faces back the way they'd come, then turns off the van's engine and silence descends on the area. He can't see Chris anywhere, but then that was kind of the point. Hopefully she could stay out of sight, at least unless he needs her cover fire.

"I'm climbing into the back," Jack says, "And I'm going to have this gun on you the entire time, so don't even think about trying anything." The man nods, dully, and Jack squeezes between the seats to the back of the van. Moving to the rear doors, he unlatches one, pushing it open just a little. If he needs to make a quick exit to fire at the employer, it'll save a few valuable seconds.

There's a rumbling noise, and Jack cranes his neck over the back of the seat to glance out; a similar black van is driving up, and he can't see much through the tint of the windshield. The van pulls up about thirty feet from them, the driver leaving the van idling as he steps out. Jack nudges his attacker, who thankfully doesn't look down at him.

"Come on, man, I gotta get out of here," the attacker says, leaning out the window, "You got the money?"

"What's the rush?" the man with the money asks, suspicion in his voice.

"I gotta get rid of this van; there were cameras at the target's place and as soon as someone notices they're missing, the cops are going to be looking for it."

"Where are your friends?"

"Safe. Now come on, gimme the money."

There's a pause before Jack hears footsteps crunching on the gravel, approaching the van. Crouching down in the shadows at the back of the van, he can see a silver metal case being passed through the window, his attacker placing it on the seat next to him.

"We're done, then," the employer says, turning on his heel and starting to head back to his car. Quietly, Jack slips out the back of the van, something nagging at him. Something about this seems too easy.

His answer comes when he sees the employer pull a cellphone from his pocket, pushing a couple buttons, and there's a sudden whine from inside the van, the pitch raising, like something charging up. His legs are moving even before he consciously realizes what the sound means, and he hits the dirt at the same time as the deafening explosion shakes the ground under him and he feels a sudden jab of pain in his shoulder.

Chris feels the explosion before she understands what has even happened. It's in the dull ring of her ears, the pounding of her heart and the tremble in her hands. Moving from behind the tanks, she watches the burning wreckage, listening to the flames crackle and not a sound beyond that. No sight of Jack even as she looks, hoping for something, anything because she can't believe they got this far for it to end like this.

Unsure of what to do next, she slumps against the tank, praying against hope that he wasn't in that van.

It's not until she spots the man who they were supposed to meet, now idly walking away, that Chris remembers she has a gun in her hands. Too eager to wait for a clear shot, she raises her gun and fires, missing him by a few inches. She fires a few more shots as she runs from one tank to the other but he's already taking cover and firing back. They're both too far from each other to do too much damage but it won't stay that way for long.

Jack hears the gunfire even through the ringing in his ears, coughing from the thick, oily smoke that seemed to stick in his nose and throat. He needs to get out of the cloud, see what's going on, and more importantly, where Chris is. He runs toward where he remembers there being a shed, and soon enough he's behind it, raising his weapon, peeking around the corner. He can't see Chris, but he can see their target crouching behind the hood of his car and firing at a position at roughly a ninety-degree angle from the shed, somewhere out of Jack's line of sight, and hear returning fire coming from that position.

The employer is edging toward the door, but trying to keep from exposing himself through the windows; first things first, Jack needs to keep him from getting away. It's the work of a few seconds to shoot out the front tires of the SUV, though he has to duck behind the protection of the shed as the man realizes he has two shooters aiming at him.

"CTU--drop your weapon and put your hands up!" Jack yells, though he's not entirely expecting it to work. Still, it's worth a shot.