Cammie's POV
This was happening. This was actually happening. I couldn't believe it. Of course, things like this happened all the time in the spy world. It would be surprising if it didn't, actually. But it just seemed so unreal. Even though you knew it was a possibility and that it could happen to you, you never actually think that at 16 and a half years of age, you could be at a COC base, chained to a wall.
I've been here for two weeks.
And I had to get out.
2 Days Later
The door creaked open, and a muscle-y man came in, and, without making a sound, shot me in the arm. I screamed.
3 Weeks Later
The wall about five feet from me burst open, and there he was.
"ZACH," I shrieked, struggling against my chains. His blazing green eyes shifted and moved to me, and widened when he saw me. What? Did I really look that bad? Well, considering that I've been here for about five weeks, yea. I probably did. Coated in blood, dust, tears...
"Cammie," he breathed out. That's all I heard before I blacked out.
Zach's Point of View
I burst through the wall, Grant, Bex, Lizzie, Macey, and Tristan (my roommate) waiting behind me. I looked around.
"ZACH," someone shouted. I whipped my head around and my eyes widened. Cammie was there, chained to the wall, tear stains down her skinny cheeks, her long, honey-colored hair matted with blood and dirt.
"Cammie," I sighed. She collapsed to the floor. Suddenly, about 15 of my mom's goons burst into the room, the sudden light surprising me.
"GET HER." One of them shouted, pointing at the unconscious Cammie.
"Good luck. To get her, you have to get US, first." Bex retorted, all of them having stepped out from the hole I made.
We stood there for a second, sizing each other up. Macey made the first move. She jumped and roundhouse kicked a guy in his jaw. He shrieked and grabbed Macey's hair, slamming her into the wall.
"OH, HELL NO. DON'T. TOUCH. MY. HAIR." She screamed. She grabbed his shirt and kicked his...area. He doubled over in pain and she punched his head, and then kicked his stomach. He flew back into the wall and went limp, unconscious.
Bex and Grant were trying to unlock Cammie from the wall, having trouble since the goons kept trying to get them away from Cammie so they could take her away again. Bex lost her last nerve.
She suddenly stood up, her face practically seeming to glow with anger. She started to hurt them in ways that I could not have imagined. Grant turned quickly to make sure she was okay, and then finally got the chains unlocked with Liz and Jonas' key that was supposed to open any lock. He gently snapped them off her wrists and ankles and picked her up. He looked at me and I nodded. He ran back through the hole, and that was the last thing I could see before a goon tackled me.
Grant's POV
Woahhh there. Cammie was a lot lighter than the last time I had given her a piggy back ride through the Grant Hall the last time I saw her. At least ten pounds lighter. That can't be healthy..
I sprinted back to the waiting helicopter and handed Cammie to Mr. Solomon. I was about to turn around to go make sure Bex and the others were okay, but I already saw them sprinting towards me. I hurriedly climbed onto the helicopter before they trampled me.
1 WEEK LATER
Cammie's POV
They saved me. Zach and the others saved me. They brought me back to Gallagher and the nurse saved my life. I woke up to all of them standing by my bed crying, even Tristan, who I haven't known for a very long time. They all piled on my bed and snuck me food, which they had stuffed down their pants/jackets. It was quite a sight to see-them reaching down their pants and shirts and voila! A bag of pretzels appears in their hands. I laughed. I love them so much. Eventually the nurse caught them, and now we've been banned from the kitchen for a month. No more midnight snacks, I guess. Oh well. It's breakfast time now, and Blackthorne has done another exchange with Gallagher. I walked into the Grand Hall and smiled at my friends, who had already sat down and had saved me a seat. The girls left me a note and an outfit to wear. Since it was the first day of school, we got to wear regular clothes, since the seventh graders did not have their uniforms yet.
I was wearing a white tank top, and on top of the white tank top I was wearing a cream crochet sweater, with little crocheted flower patterns all over. It was slightly baggy. And on my legs I just had light-wash shorts, and white ballet flats. I waterfall-braided my light brown hair and curled the ends. Macey gave me a thumbs-up when I walked into the Dining Hall, telling me that she approved of my hair.
Suddenly, I stopped short. My face must have had a panicked look on it, because I heard chairs scrape against the floor and my friends surrounded me. That's when the pain started. It traveled from my bullet wound in my arm up to my head. I screamed and clutched my head, falling to my knees on the floor.
