Chapter 6- Chicka Chicka... Then What Comes Next?

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I was walking towards Bex, weaving through the dancing couples, taking the time to exchange a few polite and terse greetings with a few eminent politicians. I finally got to Bex, and along with Macey and Liz, we went up to a balcony (one where they allowed the visitors on) overlooking the entrance to the white house.

Bex was obviously excited because she gushed, "Down there? You see that guy, almost bald, plump, pudgy, fat guy? Apparently he's some kind of important guy in this really minor country-" I looked, and saw that the guy was currently being forcefully ushered back into his limo "-I couldn't really hear what it was, but he's been blabbing to the guards about something, because he wasn't invited or something like that and-" she took a deep breath, "-he's-"

I snapped, cutting her off, before realizing with horror who he was. I didn't panic, though, because I couldn't risk doing so. "That's... from my..." I drifted off. Everyone was looking at me. Macey, of course, was looking at me with the that-explains-a-lot look. She looked at me expectantly, so to make up for my lapse, I quickly said, "Steven J. Levan, 16 year CIA veteran. Something fishy is DEFINITELY going on with him." They nodded at me in a business-like way and we hurried back to find Mr. Prichard.

Just then, at the same time, I heard a faint, "You'll pay for this!" (how cliche). We exchanged concerned glances and put on comms units and spread out through the crowd, in search of our classmates. I was the last to descend the stairs back down to the ball room, and right as I was about to turn the corner, I spoke. I most likely looked crazy, speaking to no one in particular, but that was not the case.

"Zach! Stop pretending you aren't there because I know you were eavesdropping. So get your sneaky nosy butt over here; I have something urgently important." Sure enough, a figure appeared out of the corner, looking disappointed, amused, alert, determined, and scared, all at the same time. The eyes tell it all.

"Here." I handed him a comms unit swiftly and together, we hurried, as fast as we could without looking abnormal, to find the others.

Before long, our whole group was there, knowing what we heard about on the balcony, but no matter where we looked we couldn't find Mr. Prichard. Neither did we have the chance to, because just then, an ear-splitting BOOM deafened all the noises, causing debris and bits of the marble-great-ness of the White House crumble away, falling down unto our heads, all in just a millisecond. "Take cover!" I yelled. We put our arms over our heads to protect ourselves, and I did a quick 360. And all I saw was debris, people, panic, debris, panic.

"Ahhh!!!" I heard a very high scream, and Macey's mom's shaken, pale, and disheveled figure came running to Macey, stumbling over the wreck on the marble floor. "Your father and the president is gone!" she yelled hysterically. Macey's eyes widened.

"Mother," she told her, soothingly, trying to calm her hysterics, "you MUST come with us. You'll be out of danger." There was an urgency in her voice that probably made her mother agree without complaints. I caught her eye and nodded my head. I knew for certain what she wanted to do, but it was inevitable that we had to go to the CIA headquarters in Langley first.

A few minutes later, we had found our helicopter, with our pilot nowhere in sight. It was alarmingly weird and surprising, but we decided to board it. And right before we left, we dialed 911.

Macey's mom was currently shocked, too shocked to say anything. When you add up the fact that, one, the White House has been bombed, two, your husband and the president are gone, and three, she was among twelve teenage spies-in-training and two geniuses that were here on accident (because they take Organic Chemistry), well... You get the idea.

"According to my calculations, it is approximately 9.6 miles from the White House to Langley and will take about 15 minutes to get there," Liz said matter-of-factly. Don't look at me; I don't know how Liz does that.

"I hope we'll be fast enough," said a boy named Paul through the headphones I was making everyone wear, as he looked back down at the mess that was below us now. Smoke was rising from the building, burnt black ashes still visible, as the whole area was slowly becoming smaller and smaller as we increased altitude. I nodded solemnly, in agreement. I was so close to hyperventilating again, but this time, it was dead serious. I couldn't help but wish it was all a test, but that was ABSOLUTELY impossible. The scary thing was, I was the pilot. Yeah, call me crazy, but in no way was I about to act like wimp; besides, I didn't want to give Zach the chance to have something to be smug and make fun of me about. Especially since he was the only other person that offered to fly the helicopter. So naturally, he was my co-pilot. Oh, joy.

I focused my mind on keeping us in air, which I was glad about, because I wanted to avoid thinking about how I just saw Levan. Of all people, it was unfortunate and too much of a coincidence that I had to see him today, and that he had to appear in my dream. Just great, I thought bitterly. Zach must have seen my sour facial expression, because he said, "You know him?"

I knew who which "him" he was talking about, but I wasn't going to tell anyone my dreams anytime soon. So I shrugged in response. It's amazing how I can still seem so calm right now. I looked at the aerial view below, and we were getting closer to Langley. However, the Headquarters seemed suspiciously blackened...

Just when things couldn't get any worse, it did. My mouth almost literally dropped down to the ground below us as I realized that the headquarters had been bombed too...

"Holy... (insert a curse word of your choice here)..." I almost yelled. I hoped it was inaudible to anyone but to the people around me, but I had headphones on. Oops! A couple of people winced, including Zach, at my choice of words because this was the FIRST EVER time they had ever heard me swear, in English. I hurriedly dropped altitude, making everyone scream at me, but this was a desperate time, people. "Hold on tight!" I exclaimed as I swooped down, just half a foot away from the ground. I landed and everyone just piled out and ran over to the wreckage. It appeared to be bombed a few minutes ago, as smoke was still rising and embers were still glowing.

I didn't know what I was thinking at that time. Like an instinct, reflex, I started rummaging through the wreck.

"Hello? Anyone here?" I yelled frantically as I looked for people. Soon, everyone else was doing the same thing, even Macey's mom. After a while, I came across a cabinet. I gasped, because it was one of those high-tech cabinets that withstood anything. There was one flaw in the design, and it was that the designer never thought about protection against bombs. Fails when you need it. And I knew these cabinets were not high-tech for nothing. They had top secret information, files on people, code names, and whatnot. I picked it up, and the latch popped open...

Just then a faint, weak voice called out from under the debris, making its way into my ear. It was muffled, but I could tell it was someone saying, "Help..."

I yelled out to a few students nearby and they helped me clear away the huge chunks of building pieces and we lifted out the injured figure. I quickly recognized it as the woman who bugged the Russian Embassy.

"Every one's gone..." she murmured weakly. She continued, "Cammie, " I was surprised she remembered my name, "tell your mother that..."

"Hang on, Marisse, the ambulance will come soon," I told her, trying to be as soothing as I could. Liz came up to me and put a supporting hand on my shoulder

"... tell her that... I'm sorry..." and her frail body fell lifeless in my arms. I felt agony. I felt as if my face would be set in the same expression of angst for the rest of my lifetime. I felt like I just died. And most of all, I felt the same my mom felt, when she lost my dad. My classmates looked at me in concern.

For the rest of the time, we looked to make sure that indeed everyone was gone. And the saddest thing was, it was true. We salvaged through the ruins to see if there were any other things that should be saved. After all, they were government quality, government protected, and were government secrets. Things were lugged back unto the helicopter, only to realize that we, plus the salvaged things, would be too heavy. We found a helicopter somewhere inside the headquarters and Zach piloted it, along with 7 students and half the salvage and I got the other half of things and students.

"So, Gallagher Girl, what's next?" Zach asked, anxiously. It seems that it is assumed that I'm the leader. Not that I mind, but...

"I'm, well, we are going back to Gallagher. We have to go talk to my mom, after all, she is a CIA agent and our headmistress. You, can go back to Blackthorne if you want, it's your choice. But we are definitely going back home."

"We're going with you," he said, as other boys said, "What?!" He repeated what he said. "We're going with the Gallagher girls," he growled, this time with finality in his voice.

I shrugged, but inside, I was glad that we weren't splitting. It would be easier and safer to stay together. "Whatever fits you," I simply said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Stay calm, stay calm. No hyperventilating. No panicking."You might want to let Dr. Steve know what's going on, but no one here has a phone, do they?" I suggested, and my gaze shifted over to Mrs. McHenry.

"Uh... I-I do," she stuttered, holding out her Blackberry. After a concise and succinct exchange of words, he hung up, dialed 911, and handed the phone back.

"Let's go," he said.

A/N: A little shorter, but, I got it out fast!!!

Poll on profile regarding title switch!!! Make sure to vote! Not updating the next chapter 'till I get some votes!

Thanks to T3am Switzerland for the suggestion! It's a little different, though. Anyway, thank you!

You remember how I encouraged nominating fanfic for the Gallagher Awards? And how I urged you to review? Well, A LOT of you, like, the MAJORITY of you, DIDN'T DO SO!!! I can keep track of who's posting what on the forums and I can keep track of how many of you read my story. Today, as I'm writing this A/N, is February 11, 2009, 8:37 pm, Chicago time, and how many reviews do I see? 7. Out of let's see... 219 readers. How many nominated stories? As far as my Gmail inbox goes, NONE. Get it moving people!!!
I'm not as concerned about reviews as I am about the Awards. (though still strongly encourage you to review "D) SO NOMINATE SOME STORIES!!! AND MAKE SURE TO VOTE IN MARCH!!!