Here I am! Okay, I know it's been for ever…but I do have eight very valid excuses:

Spelling and Parts of Speech Test

Religion Chapter Test

Social Studies Test

Science Test

Math Test

Spanish Vocabulary Test

Book Test: The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

Mysteries of the Rosary Test

See, teachers like to cram tests in before Spring Break! So I was studying and stuff. SORRY PEOPLE!

My AmAzInG reviewers:

foesizzle13

Abby-Jade-Love

Scarlet

ALBANY

cocky-gurl

ReillyScarecrowRocks

Alexis Taylor (Could it be the same Alexis Taylor that was my favorite reviewer of my Max Ride story? If so, SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN!)

Anyway…on to the next chapter?

Cammie's POV:

When a person narrowly escapes death just to open your eyes to see his face again, the day just goes downhill from there.

"Umm…hi?" I asked.

The guy waved the gun at me, directing me toward the fireplace. Was he planning on burning me or what?

"In." He again pointed to the fireplace.

"In what? The fireplace?" I asked in my best German.

He pointed the gun at me again.

I guess that's a yes.

The fireplace was rather large, about 4 feet tall with large slate tiles on both the face and inside…and it was strangely clean, like it hadn't been used in a long time…I guess that might account for the fact that the room was so cold. I slipped off my back pack, then gently stepped into the fireplace and stooped over so that I could fit all the way, with my bag at my feet.

I glanced toward the man, he was standing to the left of the opening and all I could see of him was his stomach…and it wasn't a pretty sight let me tell you. I was just about to ask what was going to happen next when I heard a loud click…then the floor started to fall.

Official Report

Werner Beerdigungen, December 19, 2010

After the man, here after referred to as The Old Gunman, pointed Operative Morgan into the fireplace, where she stooped for approximately 30 seconds before The Old Gunman pushed/pulled something to the left of the fireplace. The floor of the fireplace rapidly started to sink downward. Operative Morgan attempted to grab a hold of the hearth but the floor dropped at such an unexpected rate, she was not able to. She plummeted for almost a minute, she estimated four floors, before the contraption she was in hit the floor…hard. She was literally bounced from it and landed in a very unflattering position at the feet of one Zachary Goode, hereafter referred to as Operative Goode. While Operative Goode found this to be hilarious, Operative Morgan did not.

When I landed, the back pack at my feet had somehow tangled itself around my ankles…and it was now really stuck. I attempted to untangle it as Zach tried, unsuccessfully, to stop laughing, "Are-" pause for some laughing, "Are you-" more laughing, couldn't he control himself, he was a spy after all, "Are you alright?" he finally managed to spit out his whole three word sentence.

I glared up at him for a minute, then I went back to untying myself, "Oh yeah, I'm great…I almost fell from a third story window, got yanked to safety by an old man with a rather large gun, got shoved into a fireplace, fell ninety miles an hour down a dark hole, then got tied up by my own back pack…but other than that, I'm peachy."

I was glaring angrily at the knot, it was being difficult. Whenever people, otherwise known as Zachary Goode, fluster me, it just seems like I can't do anything right…and it so annoying. I muttered a Japanese curse word at the bag, come on…untying a back strap shouldn't be this hard! I was just about ready to pull out my pocket knife when I heard Zach chuckle again, but he bent down and pulled the strap and it immediately came untied.

No fair.

I kicked the back pack out of my way and stood up, dusting my pants off as well. I glanced at Zach and noticed two things: one; he didn't have his bag and two; he looked like a cat who had successfully eaten a canary, "Thanks," I muttered.

"You're welcome," he smirked.

I started to make a remark on the smirk when I noticed something…Alex was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Alex?"

Zach looked sheepish, "He's in the next room…one of the guys thought he was the enemy and chloroformed him…he should be coming around soon though."

"Which 'guys'?"

Zach just gestured behind me. I turned to see six guys, including The Old Gunman, standing there.

I really hope they did see the whole back pack thing…

Anyways, I'll just give you an idea of what they looked like:

The first one was The Old Gunman…tall, fat, and gray haired, about 65 years old. Now as I looked at him I saw that his eyes were deep, royal blue…almost black.

The one next to him was probably 20; he was about 6"2', with bright blue eyes, sandy blond hair and a Hollywood smile, which he was flashing at me right now. He had on a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a dirty white t-shirt that looked way too cold for this basement…but I have to admit it offered a nice view of all his muscles. He's hereafter know as Hottie One

Hottie Two was right next to Hottie One, and I guessed his age to be around 18. He had long brown hair, parted in the middle so it created kind of ridges, bright blue was the color of his eyes as well, I guessed the two were brothers. Hottie Two was a little shorter then Hottie One at about 6"1'. He had on a pair of jeans that had seen better days and a jacket that looked like it had been slept in. He winked, then grinned at me…and I couldn't help but smile back…did I mention he was really hot?

In front of to Hottie Two was The Kid. He looked like he was about 12, but the way he held himself made me think that he was older than that. He was about 5"4' and his hair was a pale orange, reaching to his shoulders. It stuck out in tuffs and curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. His eyes had a dangerous quality that no 12 year old should have, and they were green. As I looked him over, he sneered at me creepily…alrighty then, moving on.

Next to The Kid, was The Cutie, age about 15. He was tall and skinny, about 5"9 with short black hair and dark brown, almond shaped eyes. He was kind of slouching forward and he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his over sized jeans. He had on a baseball jacket and when I looked at him he blushed and looked at his feet. Now how cute is that?

The last guy is hereafter known as The Scammer...I mean come on, what 16 year old guy willingly wears a suit unless he's some sort of scammer? He had on gray suit pants and a white button down shirt with the top three buttons undone, the jacket slung over his shoulder. I guessed him to be about 16, also when he shifted to give me a cheery wave I caught a glimpse of a gold chain. He had dark, African skin; short, curly brown hair and a smile that would make you believe anything he would say.

After taking it all in, the only comment I could make was, "Oh…hi."

Hotties One and Two smiled, but it was Hottie Two that spoke and I was surprised to hear a strong Southern accent, almost exactly like Liz's, "Howdy, my given name's Charlie but my buddies call me Sodapop."

I must have looked like I was confused because he explained further, "I'm a hyper one ma'am, if I don't get rid of my energy I just pop." I smiled at the way he pronounced pop, it sounded more like pap…so adorable!

Hottie One snorted, and what he said sounded something like this, "Lawd above! He got what right, can't si' still fer a second wiv aaaht bouncin' awer fidg'ting," he paused and flashed me a smile, "Gawdon Bennet! 'Lo. I'm Eric Matthews at yaaahr service."

"Nice to meet you too, both of you," I smiled, unsure on just about ¾ of what Hottie One had just said…or if his name was Gordon Bennett or Eric Matthews.

The Scammer rolled his eyes, and I was happy to hear a regular old American, "I don't think she got all of that Eric, try and talk like a normal Brit." So his name is Eric…

Before Two could retort, Scammer continued, "My name is Markus Clark, but I'm more likely to answer to Mark, Mark Clark," He flashed a grin of perfect white teeth, "Miss Morgan."

So how did he know my name?

Hottie One spoke again, "Blimey! I talk just fine, what yew talkin' about?"

Scammer ignored One while Hottie Two pushed The Cutie, "Don't be shy now bub, introduce yourself."

"Name's Sam," he said, blushing again.

I smiled as One pushed on The Kid, "You an' all, tell da lady yaaahr name. Nuff said, yeah?"

The Kid turned around and I'm pretty sure he flicked him off, but he turned around, "I'm Polish and my name is twelve letters long and too hard for dumb Americans to say. Don't talk about my first name so don't ask. They call me Red."

I nodded, "It's nice to meet all-"

I was cut off by The Old Gunman, pointing at himself, "Max."

All The Names: Just In Case You're A Little Lost

A List By Cameron Morgan

The Old Gunman: Max

Hottie One: Eric Matthews

Hottie Two: Charlie "Sodapop"

The Kid: Red

The Cutie: Sam

The Scammer: Markus "Mark" Clark

They will be referred to as the names they introduced themselves as to Operative Morgan hereafter.

We stood in awkward silence for about thirty seconds before I heard a groan then a loud curse. Everyone tuned to see Alex stumble out of the door Zach had pointed to just a few minutes earlier, "What happened…where are we? And how did I get here?"

"Lor' luv a duck! Are yew alright? I'm real sorry I gassed yew, I didn't know there was free people coming...I just thought what yew was The Enemy. Know what I mean?"

Alex looked up, "I'm fine…are you from London?"

Eric looked like he was glad to hear someone with an accent somewhat close to his, Lor' luv a duck! I'm from Essex mate, 'ow abaaaht you? Where yew hail from? London?"

"London," Alex nodded.

"I hate to break up the party here, but is anyone going to tell me what's next?" I asked, crossing my arms and trying to look mean.

To my surprise, it was Zach that answered, "Tomorrow morning, 6 AM, Mark, Eric, Sam, You, Alex and I will be traveling in two hearses to Warsaw. You, Alex, Sam and I will be in caskets. Mark and Eric will be the drivers, the plan is that the way they talk will be confusing and we'll get through faster-"

"But if they cause problems that'll make them more memorable?"

"Gawdon Bennet! No worries missy M, Me an' Finsbury Park'll confuse those border masters so bad they'll push us right aaaht ov their brains. OK?"

I smiled, but I wasn't totally convinced…I was finally getting a hold of what he was saying and I guessed Finsbury Park was Mark.

Zach continued, "Soda and Red will be the follow up car, Max will lead the way. Hopefully we'll get to Warsaw about 11 tomorrow morning."

"And after that?" Alex asked.

"I'm not sure; our contact there will have the rest of the information."

I nodded, then glanced at my watch, it was about 3:45, "So what are we going to do for the next two hours?"

I really hoped he would say sleep, but when does anything good happen to me?

"Fit ya for caskets!" Sodapop bounced.

"Gawdon Bennet! This way, da caskets awai' you!"said Eric.

Alex and I exchanged glances…could this trip get any stranger?

There we go, caskets HO! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! In case you were wondering, Eric is from England but he's speaking with Cockney slang…it is basically rhymes words to be something completely different.

Also, I wanted to make something really clear, most of the places in this story are made up…I just wanted to make that clear!

I'm also excited to say that my pen pal Ola, who lives near Warsaw, will be helping me in the next chapter, telling me about Warsaw, since she's been there a lot! But that also means it could be a while before I update…be patient!

Anyway, Please REVIEW!

Agent Striker