It all happened too fast. Only a few seconds and their entire situation had changed. It seemed impossible. Zoey was breathing rapidly, almost hyperventilating. C.J. was trying to keep calm but found that most of her body was shaking. The voices around her were muted in her panicked perception but the three men were very clear in her vision. One sat on the other side of Zoey and the other two seemed to be arguing in the front. The three cars were driving at a break neck speed. She linked her arm with the frightened Zoey who looked up gratefully at the touch.

C.J.'s mind seemed to catch up with the situation all at once. There was a cellular phone in her pocket. The Secret Service had to be in pursuit. She looked down at Zoey whose eyes were filled with tears. Behind them, the other two cars sped and C.J. heard more of the foreign language on a radio. They made a sudden turn as did one of the other follow vehicles but in a different direction. Now she understood. With such a late response, anyone following immediately would have few resources and splitting cars would force them to choose only one or two to follow. As it was, C.J. saw one Secret Service vehicle still in pursuit of them and felt a surge of hope in her chest.

The men in the second car began shooting on the Secret Service car causing them to swerve dangerously at the high speed. Both C.J. and Zoey ducked down, covering their heads. The pursuing vehicle had no idea which car contained the President's daughter and could not rightly shoot back. More gunfire and the inevitable accident happened and the Secret Service car spun out of control and into a ditch. The fleeing black vehicle careened around onto another road and Zoey and C.J. (as well as their captors) had to hold on to something. Once the car was on a straight track again, C.J. looked around and, with a sinking feeling, saw that they were completely alone.

Zoey seemed to be in a daze as they continued to drive fast, further away from safety. The driver suddenly slammed on the breaks, making Zoey's stomach do a flip. They were hauled out of the car by even more men and roughly ushered to another waiting vehicle which looked nothing like the black car they were just in. Its red door opened and both C.J. and Zoey had to step up into a large SUV. It would blend in with traffic perfectly and C.J.s heart dropped with sudden hopelessness. This time, she and Zoey were not in the same seat and both were flanked by two men on either side. She wished she had used her cell phone in the other car and perhaps they could have been traced. She tried to memorize where they had gone and how far, but they were taking so many turns and back roads that she soon lost her way. They finally pulled into the driveway of an old farmhouse seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Cornfields surrounded it for miles.

Commanded out of the car at gunpoint, the two women were herded inside and searched. C.J.s phone was found easily and destroyed. Zoey had one of her own which met the same fate. The car drove away and C.J. was led into one room while Zoey's captors kept pushing her forward.

"C.J.!" Zoey called, struggling.

"Just cooperate with them, Zoey." C.J. warned, the only advice she could give. Little else could be exchanged between them as the door was closed behind her. She faced a man who was sitting at a desk. Taking in the room that might have been a bedroom at one time, it now resembled cluttered office.

"Who are you?" The heavily accented man asked, standing slowly, his hands planted on the desk.

This answer was crucial. If she lied and said she was just a bystander, they would probably kill her. If she told them, they might deem her unimportant and kill her anyway, "I'm the White House Press Secretary." She confessed, her voice shaky. When he didn't answer, she added, "I'm a Senior Staff member at the White House."

"You are important?"

She couldn't very well play down her importance, "I'm an important member of the White House Staff, yes."

He nodded to the men behind her and she was whisked away again up a flight of stairs and into another room that could have also been a bedroom but had been gutted of any furniture, but a few old blankets lay on the floor. It had also been boarded up and looked to be designed specifically to keep someone in. Zoey stood in the corner, her wrists now tied in front of her.

Her guard pointed the gun at C.J. and made some command. The second man in black put her hands in front of her and roughly tied her wrists together with twine before walking out, leaving them with one armed guard.