Kathrine "Kit" Jones was told never to wander far from home. Problem was, the girl was not at home and she knew it. Home was half way across the country in Bedford, Connecticut. That didn't go to say the young girl had no friends because she absolutely did have one fried called Short Round, who was maybe a year or two older than her. At this point, they had borrowed two horses from a friend and rode out into the woods. Kit showed her wreckless side a bit, but not so much that she harmed the animal. The young girl loved animals. Hated rats and snakes. Her brother, apparently named after both her father and grandfather, was called Mutt, he hated monkeys. Kit often made fun of him for this fact because what little sister wouldn't? That evening both horses returned to the ranch, riders nowhere to be found. Kit's grandfather, Henry Jones, Sr., panicked at the news that both the girl and Short Round were missing. The kid needed her father.

Kit woke chained to a stone wall. From her position, she could see a flag with the swastika on it. 'Great, Nazis, the last thing I need today,' she thought, sighing audibly before kicking Short Round to wake him.

"Psst, short Round, wake up," she muttered, half attempting to pick the lock of her cuffs with a straightened paperclip.

As soon as she got the second cuff unlocked, she surveyed the damage done to her wrists, no fractures that she could feel, good, but the wounds, though minor, still hurt pretty bad, she stopped only to clean and bandage them quickly from the medical supplies she had in her pocket. She sighed, reaching into her bag, guards had obviously been recruits and had forgotten to search her. Perfect, so she thought.

"Do not be wreckless," Short Round warned.

Kit looked around the small cell, noting the skeleton in the corner, which was freaking out Short Round was plastic. She rolled her eyes, the guards were so obviously recruits.

Kit stepped to the bars and looked around the room. Typical Nazi office, chairs toppled over, maps and files scattered across table tops. Kit was afraid, but wasn't afraid she could never force herself to be outwardly afraid of anything, even if she was. The office was different somehow, a battered fedora sat on a hook in a trophy case. She sighed, using the paperclip to pick the lock. It took about fifteen minutes to pick the lock, she physically had to drag Short Round to the window. To say the boy was reluctant to climb out of the window would be an understatement. Kit did manage to drag him out the window. She climbed down the tree and made her way to the woods.

Little did the children know, someone else had escaped the Nazi headquarters a week ago, how would they have known anyways? At the moment, the two were more concerned on staying alive to notice the creek, yet they used it to their advantage, hiding under the water in hollow logs. It was after hiding in the log that they hid in a cave and saw signs of life.