Good news: I already have most of chapter 11 written (it was gonna be a part of this one, but that would have made for a ridiculously long chapter). So there's at least one more chapter before hiatus. Hope 2018 has gotten off to a great start for all of you!

Shout out to the person who let me know that I accidentally made chapter 3 and 4 the same chapter. I went back and fixed it. Thanks for letting me know.

Chapter 10

November 22, 5:22 p.m.

Russell rubbed his hands over his weary face. He hadn't gotten more than a wink of sleep in the past 20 hours, and it was beginning to take its toll. He felt himself dozing off despite his best efforts to remain alert.

His phone rang. Russell hoped that it was just part of a sleep deprived hallucination. It rang again rather defiantly, as if fighting to be heard.

He cleared his throat and shook his head to rid himself of drowsiness temporarily.

"Mr. Jackson. I'm sorry for calling without any notice. How are you?"

"Director Haymond. Good morning. Er, evening," Russell corrected himself after a quick glance at the clock. "What's going on?"

"We have reason to suspect that Secretary McCord and her assistant have escaped their captors." Russell did something of a double take over the phone. Am I dreaming?

"Sir? Are you still there?" Haymond asked after an uncomfortable length of silence.

"Sorry," Russell shook his head in disbelief. "I think I just had another heart attack. She… escaped?"

"We have reason to believe that, yes."

"Okay. Can you come down to the White House?"

"Yes sir."

November 22, 5:31 p.m.

One of Blake's first memories was of a county fair when he was about three years old. There were games, a hay rides, a pumpkin patch, and even a little petting zoo. Blake at age three was nearly fearless, and he had begged his parents to do a pony ride. The next thing he remembered was the sensation of falling and the sound of the pony's hooves— who had seemed terrifyingly large at the time— rumbling past him. He could never forget the heart-stopping fear that overtook his mind as he was thrown on the ground. Since then, Blake had housed a mild phobia of and a general distaste for all farm animals, specifically horses. He avoided riding, and thereby avoided failing off of, horses for nearly 25 years. That was, until his boss and a former terrorist stole three horses from a farm. Then his options were to either get on or get hunted down by a terrorist group.

Blake felt like that terrified three year old again as he bounced on top of a stolen horse. He gripped at the horse's mane with one hand and the pommel of the saddle with the other, struggling for balance as the animal seemed intent on throwing him off. His horse was tethered to Elizabeth's so that he didn't have to worry about steering. She, in contrast, looked elegant, downright regal, except for the way that she clutched at her side.

The adrenaline rush that had temporarily numbed her potentially broken bones was fading away. Every rock of the horse's body rattled her ribcage, leaving a searing pain in her chest that blurred her senses. She tried to distract herself by focusing on her surroundings: The last rays of day fading behind thick ashy clouds that crept over the jagged, rocky points of not-so-distant mountains, the plummeting temperature as the air grew heavy with the promise of snow and freezing temperatures, the warmth and life of the horse beneath her.

None of it was distraction enough. Tears of pain, exhaustion, and fear threatened to fall with each passing second. But mostly, she wanted to cry because she missed her family. She missed her three beautiful children and her sweet, sweet husband. She missed home. She wished that she were back at her warm, safe townhouse and kissing her kids goodnight after watching a movie. Elizabeth wished that she and Henry were snuggling in their bed, basking in the glow of their love-making.

She'd been so focused on staying alive, working to find a way out, and protecting Blake that now that she had a moment to breathe, the stress and terror was beginning to catch up with her. She hadn't felt this helpless and afraid since she was trapped under Fred Cole's body in Iran. There were heavy tears in her eyes collecting on her lashes as she tried to blink them away, all too ready to fall. Elizabeth didn't have the willpower to stop them because she was running on less than empty, and her thoughts simmering, close to boiling over that would manifest itself as either a panic attack or an emotional breakdown, neither of which her ribs could handle. She could sense sobs welling up in her fractured chest, her heart breaking with regret. Had she held her family long enough, kiss them hard enough, said "I love you" enough, before parting?

"We're here," Anthony said, stopping abruptly and jolting her out of her thoughts. He dismounted and landed in the snow with a soft thump. Elizabeth slowed her horse to a stop, Blake's following suit. She climbed down from her horse, not without a whimper as she landed, and helped Blake who tumbled off and nearly landed face first in the snow.

"Where is here, exactly?"

"The Church in the Sky. It's always been a safe haven for travelers. They provide anyone who knocks on their door with a bed and a warm meal."

"They also have tunnels that go straight to Osburg. It was the only city that remained neutral through every conflict, so it seemed fitting that the church had direct access to the sanctuary city," Elizabeth added. Anthony raised his eyebrow is surprise. She shrugged and blushed slightly. "Henry's wanted to visit this church since he learned about it."

Blake shot both of them a baffled look. "Uh… Am I missing something?"

There were no buildings as far as the eye could see, only the forest they had ridden through behind them and a steep drop off in front of them. The only man made object in sight was a steel pole that jutted out of the ground. There was a withered rope tied to it, dangling off of the precipice.

"Besides the tunnel, there's only one way to get to the church." Anthony nodded towards the pole. Blake's curiosity got the better of him, and he peered over the edge. There were roughly thirty steps carved into the face of the mountain. To its left, there was a thick iron chain to grab on to, presumably someone's miserable attempt at "safety first," while traversing a trail of shoddy wooden planks that protruded from the rock face and continued into the distance. Below that was a dizzying drop into a rocky valley.

Blake gulped. Perhaps UFOE wasn't that terrible...

"This is called 'The Test of Faith.' Legend has it that the path only holds for those who believe," Anthony said softly. The three exchanged glances.

"Not it!" Blake exclaimed.

"I'll go," Anthony volunteered. He gripped the rope with a trembling hand and descended the nearly vertical staircase. He cautiously stepped onto the first plank and grabbed the iron chain. When it didn't crumble, he gave them an apprehensive smile. "So far, so good."

"You wanna go first?" Elizabeth asked. It was only polite. Blake shook his head quickly.

"No thanks, ladies first," he said. When she hesitated, he made a grand sweeping gesture and bowed slightly for extra effect. "After you, Madam Secretary." She glared but made her way to the edge of the mountain. She clutched the fraying rope with both hands and started down the steps.

The path only holds for those who believe.

Elizabeth didn't believe in God. Even as a little girl, she had doubts. Her parents took her and WIll to Mass on Easter and Christmas, but that was the extent of her religious upbringing. After her parents' death, she rejected the idea of God entirely. For years, she scoffed at anyone who identified as anything besides atheism, brushing them off as irrational and medieval. Then she met Henry. At the time, he was a young man who was wise beyond his years but had a head full of dreams. He was full of doubts and faith, a dichotomy that Elizabeth could never understand, but she grew to respect his beliefs and studies. When her childhood bereavement closed the door to God, his loss opened entire worlds. Despite their differences, he never forced religion on her. Henry was a good man, full of faith and virtue and love.

Elizabeth didn't believe in God, but she believed in her husband. And she hoped- prayed- that that would be enough. She took as deep of a breath as her ribs would allow and stepped onto the flimsy wooden plank.

I'm having this struggle where I know that people could write this story better than I can, but at the same time I know that the only way I can improve is to keep writing. Ugh. I guess I just have to push through it.

Anyway, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.