Well here I am. Since I start school on Monday, I fear I won't be able to finish this story before the end of summer. Hopefully before my fifteenth birthday in October I will have Cammie, Alex, and company tucked away safely at home. Thanks to my readers and my reviewers:

LivieLi- YES! TIVA needs to hurry up, like super fast! I am in love with McAbby, they are so darn cute! Maybe I'll write an NCIS fic…And thanks for the encouragement!

Scarleybabe- Thanks for being so NICE!

ReillyScarecrowRocks- You're so sweet!

ImogenXx- Such a sweetheart!

You guys have all been so kind; it's great to know you all care! And guess what, I feel INSPIRED!

Cammie's POV:

"This windshield is never going to hold," Alex muttered.

"Thanks for pointing that out."

He glared in my direction and I just shrugged. It's been a long couple weeks, I have a right to be crabby. And nowhere in the rules does it say that I have to admit that he's right...out loud at least.

It was inside of my head that was the problem, I knew he was right. The windshield had a hole in the center that was surrounded by an eight inch diameter spider web of tinier cracks already. The pressure of the wind from the speed of the plane was only going to make it worse, and that wasn't going to take much time. We needed to do something, and quick.

"We're going to have to land, Cam. If the windshield blows into the cockpit..." He let his sentence dangle, leaving my mind free to come up with about a billion lovely images. While most high schools just watch Drivers Ed videos (Blood On the Highway, Subarus to Scrap Metal), Gallagher Girls get to see horror films on trains, tanks, golf carts (don't ask), submarines, semis (that one brings new meaning to gory), and planes. The plane one is called 'Fire in The Skies' and it talks about what to do in these situations...and show about a million plane crashes and the clean up afterwards...plus some stuff about failed missions.

But I'm getting side tracked.

"Not an option." So, instead I was going to dig deep into my mind and use another TV reference to get us out of this situation.

MacGyver.

I pulled the lever on my seat that would let it go backwards and climbed into the back two seats.

"What areyou doing?"

"Pulling a MacGyver and saving our butts," I replied as I dug around under the seats of the plane.

"And what's a MacGyver?"

"You don't know who MacGyveris?"

He shook his head, "Should I?"

I groaned and theatrical fell back to the floor, "You poor child. I'll explain later."

I think he muttered something that I should have hit him for...but I let it slide. This time.

What I Found Under The Airplane Seat:

-nine very large pieces of lint

-seven angry spiders

-one earring (costume jewelry)

-one car jack

-three rain jackets

-one tarp

-two and a half rolls of duct tape

-one box of tools

"Cammie, this is insane."

I grunted as I dragged my supplies up to the front of the plane, "Trust me, I know that."

"So we're doing this because…?"

I rolled my eyes, "So we don't die."

"If we landed now-"

"If we landed now, the Circle could catch up with us. But if I can fix the windshield, we can fly until we run out of gas. Which should hopefully get us near if not into New York."

"Then what?" he asked, watching as I tore long strips of duct tape from the roll and stuck them on the dash board.

I shrugged, "Umm…if we get to New York, I'll call Morty. He owes my mom a favor or two."

"And if we don't get to New York?"

"You probably don't want to know."

Operative Report

By Operative Morgan with assistance from Operative Rider

Just outside of Yakutat, Alaska, the Operatives came across some trouble. It came down to a confrontation with Quinn, as well as other assumed members of the Circle. The Operatives were able to escape by plane, but in the escape, the plane windshield was badly damaged. Unable to land, Operative Morgan took matters into her own hands.

Using a Swish Army knife, she cut a 12 by 12 inch square from a plastic tarp and after completely covering the cracks in duct tape; she taped the tarp on and covered it in duct tape. She repeated this process four more times until she was moderately sure that it would hold.

It held. The duo made it 2700 miles to Wilson, New York where they were forced to crash land in some forest. They then hitchhiked into the town (population: 1213) and called one Morty Morton.

Morty is best described as an eccentric operative who has a side business dealing in stolen cars. All for the good of the nation of course.

I stood shivering on a street corner in New York just seven hours after we were shivering in a blizzard in Yakutat. Will summer ever come? "You have a branch sticking out of your backpack," I informed Alex.

He yanked it out, all the while muttering, "If we could have landed in a normal airfield and not in a bare spot in the woods…"

"We would have had to explain why two 16 year-olds were flying a stolen plane…but I am sorry about the whole landing location…the bare spot looked a lot bigger from the air."

Before he could make some snarky comment, a shiny black Camaro screeched to a halt in front of us. The window rolled down and a familiar voice yelled out at me, "Cammie baby! Ol'e Morty at your service."

"Nice car, Morty. Is it stolen?" I asked as I pulled open the sleek door and plopped into the middle seat.

"When was the last time you saw me driving a stolen car?"

"The last time I saw you ring any bells?"

Morty didn't answer, he just laughed. As Alex slammed the door behind him, Morty asked, "Who's you're friend?"

Alex answered, "Alex Rider."

"He's got an accent! I wish had an accent…" As he rambled on, I watched Alex's reaction to Morty. At six foot three, his lean frame was jammed into the small sports car and his dark bald head was clad in a bright blue ski cap. He had to be over sixty.

Alex glanced over at me and sent me a look that clearly read, what are you thinking?

I just smiled.

I think I'll stop here. Morty will return in the next chapter. Did this seemed to rushed to you? I wasn't sure.

And Camaros are really hot sports cars…and if you don't know who MacGyver is, I feel deep sorrow for you.

Please review!

~Striker