Ash groaned as she began to regain consciousness. There was a horrible pain in her neck. She tried to reach a hand up to massage it but she couldn't move them. Was she that tangled in her sheets?

She slowly worked on raising her head, letting out cries of pain with every inch she gained. She wondered if she could get a redo on this night's sleep and wake up not feeling so broken.

"Ash, are you awake?" someone asked. "Can you hear me?"

She jerked upright. "Zach?" she questioned, opening her eyes. "Why are you in my room?"

She looked at her surroundings and bigger questions than 'Zach being in her room' filled her brain. She was in an unfamiliar dark room. She could barely see the walls.

"This isn't my room," she said.

What was going on? Where was she? What had happened? Ash tried to remain calm as she tried to recall the last thing she could remember. It was hazy and her head hurt, which wasn't helping, and someone kept talking.

"Ash, listen to me," Zach said, his voice low but clear.

Right! She remembered Zach was with her. And Zach had been with her the night before. She had been leaving the coffee shop and he had offered to walk her home. Then...her memories took on a hazy glow that kept the details just out of her reach.

"...kidnapped," Zach said.

The word broke into Ash's thoughts and suddenly she could not only remember but she could feel a hand coming over her mouth and she could smell the sweet smell.

"What's going on?" she asked

"Don't panic," Zach said.

She looked around and laughed.

"Easier said than done," she said, as she could feel herself starting to do exactly what he had told her not to.

"Listen, I used to work for the CIA. The men that kidnapped us are part of a Russian terrorist organization."

"A Russian terrorist organization?" she questioned.

It felt like someone had cut the tie between words and their meaning. CIA? Terrorist Organization? Kidnapped? She knew the words he was saying but it still felt like he was speaking in a different language.

"Yes," Zach answered. "I worked this case for the CIA. Somehow they found me."

Ash felt her heartbeat starting to pick up and felt the adrenaline seeping into her system. They had been kidnapped. Zach worked for the CIA? Her eyes darted around the room. It looked like a place someone would hold hostages.

Her breathing quickened as she felt her flight or fight defense kick in but she was tied to a chair and flight wasn't an option, which meant she had to fight. It had been years since she had been in a situation where she was required to stay and fight. With her small frame and small muscles, there was nothing physically she could do to fight, but she had found a way to mentally fight. Sarcasm.

She had learned fear was pointless in a situation like this. It only made everything worse. Sarcasm might not stop whatever was going to happen from happening, but it did give her the tiniest sense of control in an uncontrollable situation.

"You work for the CIA? Perfect! I work for the DEA," she mocked. "I'm glad to see our agencies finally cooperating, although I do wish it was under better circumstances."

"Ash?" he said.

She could clearly hear the surprise in his voice at her response. She smiled. Was this what it took to get a read on him? Getting kidnapped? It was definitely overpriced. The next time she found someone she couldn't read she would walk in the opposite direction.

"I'm being serious. I worked for the CIA but I quit," he said, his voice coming out firmer.

"I didn't think that was something you could do," she quipped.

"It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I will do everything I can to get us out of this situation. Now, I've counted four men in total..." Zach listed off all the details he had collected. "...I've managed to get my hand ties a little loose. Getting a gun is my next objective."

"Stop talking," she said.

She needed a moment of silence as her brain raced to sort through all these new puzzle pieces Zach was handing her. She might be tied up in an unknown location and it seemed highly likely that she would die, but even with all that, she couldn't shut off that part of her brain that had to figure people out. Had Zach really worked for the CIA?

From the way he was so controlled all the time, to his ability to read people and situations to him now talking about a tactical escape plan, had her wondering if he was really telling the truth.

"Did you really work for the CIA?" she asked.

"Yes!" he said, frustration clear in his voice.

She wondered if he was frustrated that she didn't believe him or if it was because she hadn't been listening to his plan.

"But...?" He couldn't be much older than her, maybe mid-twenties, and he hadn't even graduated college. He was talking about playing key roles in a huge operation.

He spoke again, "I was recruited when I was young," he explained, as if he had been able to hear her thoughts. "There was a program for boys...I...I started training at an early age."

Ash's logical side kicked in and she was about to call bull-crap on his story but there was something real in the way he stumbled over his words that stopped her.

"You started training to work for the CIA as a kid?"

"It wasn't the CIA in the beginning. It was a different program."

None of what he was saying made any sense. Was he insane?

"The way I see it..." she said, "you either worked for the CIA, which would be super helpful given the situation we are in, or you're completely crazy."

"I don't really care what you think," he snapped. "All I care about is that you do what I say and keep your mouth shut when the men come back?"

"Men?" she questioned just as the door to the room opened.

Ash whipped her head to the side to avoid the rush of the light. After her eyes had a moment to adjust, she looked back at the door and saw a dark hulking figure standing in the doorway. He was backlit and all his features were obscure.

Ash could feel her panic spike like a metal cage closing around her heart and beginning to squeeze. But just as quickly she could feel her sarcasm overtaking the fear. Fear didn't help her, she reminded herself.

"Wow!" she said, letting her voice drip with fake awe. "What an entrance! I mean I would be clapping but my hands are tied. But, if you untie them I promise a standing ovation."

The man grunted out a few words in a different language as he took a few more steps into the room. His movement allowed more light into the room and Ash was able to see his face. Just like the room was a stereotypical place to hold hostages, this man fit every stereotype of a hostage taker. His face was scarred, his hair was unkempt, there was a deep angry line between his brows, and his eyes looked cruel.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that. Can you repeat it?" Ash asked, smiling innocently.

She watched as her words first confused the man, then deepened the frown between his eyes. He spoke again, his words coming out harsher but still unintelligible to Ash.

"Hold up," she said, shaking her head like something wasn't right. "Let's try this again. Your entrance was so strong but then you brought the energy way down. If you want to present a real threat you need to stick with the whole menacing vibe."

"Ash..." Zach quietly warned her.

"Don't worry about it," she said, ignoring Zach. "This is why we rehearse. Again!"

Apparently, the man didn't want to make his entrance again as he stalked toward Ash, his hand raised like he was going to hit her.

"Okay, okay," she said, ducking her head to the side.

Her quick words held off the man's blow but he let out a long string of angry words. To her surprise, Zach responded in the same language. Zach knew how to speak a different language? She listened as he spoke to the man, his voice calm.

"Hey, will you tell this guy I was only trying to help his brand," she said.

"Ash," Zach snapped loudly.

"What?" she asked innocently. "He clearly has an aesthetic going on, not one that I'm particularly like but I can appreciate the image he has curated. I was just trying to help him out."

Ash couldn't help the words pouring out her mouth. There was a small part of her brain telling her to shut up, and maybe if she was ten and still living with her dad she would have listened to the voice. But she had walked the silent road for most of her life and she had still ended up with the bruises and broken bones. Might as well have her fun while she still could.

"Do you think this is funny?" the man asked in broken English.

"Not particularly," Ash answered honestly, "but the only other option is to cry and I'm an ugly crier. You don't want to see that. I'm actually doing you a favor."

"Stop talking," Zach said.

"You Americans and your stupid mouths," the man yelled, slapping Ash hard across the face. Her head snapped to the side upon impact and she cried out in pain.

"Oww," she groaned as pain splintered out from her cheekbone up to the top of her head and down to her shoulder.

"Ash, stop talking!" Zach commanded her.

She took in deep breaths as she waited for the initial shock of pain to subside. As the pain lessened to a deep ache something raw and angry roiled up inside of her. She hadn't managed to escape her father just to have some Russian hulk slap her around. She didn't care what Zach said. She wasn't going to stay silent.

"Technically," she fixed the man with the laziest look like he wasn't even worth the effort it would take to summon a condescending smile, "what I said originated in my brain, not my mouth. A more accurate insult would be 'you Americans and your stupid brains'."

The man's face turned red as he clenched his fists. Ash smiled smugly as she read the anger and fury on his face. He wanted her to fear him but she wasn't really interested in doing that.

"Ash, what are you doing?" Zach shouted. "Are you insane?"

She stopped to put some sincere thought into his question. This probably wasn't how normal people would be acting in this situation.

"Probably," she answered casually.

This earned her another slap, this one stronger. Part of the man's hand landed on her ear and along with the shock of pain, there was a loud ringing in her ear.

"Oww," she cried out, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.

This time she let her head stay to the side as she tried to regain clear thinking over the pain and the loud ringing in her ear. It took a few minutes for her to get enough strength to raise her head. She lifted her head she felt like was coming back to reality from a very unpleasant nightmare.

As her brain started working again and the ringing in her ear lessened she could hear Zach and the man talking again. Zach sounded as if he was pleading for his life. Probably hers.

After a minute the man turned his focus back on Ash.

"Tell me what you know about Mykola." He crossed his arms as he stared down at her.

"Don't say anything. Not a word," Zach instructed her.

The man silenced Zach with a harsh word then looked back at Ash.

"I couldn't if I wanted to," she said. "I don't know who Mykola is."

"My-ko-la!" the man said louder, emphasizing every single syllable.

"I...don't...know!" Ash said, raising her own voice in frustration.

"My-ko-la!" the man repeated.

"I don't know who that is," she yelled.

This man had already slapped her several times, made her think about her dad and now he was asking about some random person. Ash could feel her hot anger turning into a cold rage.

"I don't even know Zach!" she yelled. "I know nothing! I shouldn't be here. You made a mistake. You're the idiot who didn't even know who to kidnap. Even if I knew who Mykola was, I wouldn't tell you a damn thing!"

Before Ash could process what was happening, the man lunged for her. He grabbed her by the hair, swung her around, and began to drag the chair towards the door. Ash got a quick look at the back of Zach's head before she was dragged out of the room. Zach started shouting but the man slammed the door behind him and Zach's voice was cut off from Ash.

Ash was blinded by the brightness outside the room and the next thing she knew the rope around her hands had been cut and she was being pulled to her feet. She still couldn't fully see as the man began to drag her by the back of her shirt and her feet scrambled to stay beneath her.

Something banged open and Ash was hit by a rush of cold air as she was thrown down. Her knees slammed into the wooden floor as her hands shot out before her, trying to keep her head from colliding with the hard surface. Before she could push herself up, the man grabbed the back of her hair and yanked her up until she was on her knees.

A cold wind whipped across her bare arms as a cold panic quickly seeped into every fiber of her body. There was a strange clicking noise a moment before something narrow and hard came to rest against the back of her head.

The barrel of a gun.

She didn't know how she knew it, but she knew down to the marrow of her bones that there was a gun to her head. She closed her eyes. This was it then. This was the end. She was going to die.

A stream of faces flooded her mind, like a Rolodex of images moving in fast forward. Kind faces, cold faces, old, young, fat, thin, they kept coming. Her third grade teacher, the man who owned the store on the corner of her block, the bully from fourth grade, the cashier at her local supermarket. These were the faces Ash had spent her life observing.

As the faces continued to come, the people's stories joined them. Ms. Morrison who had a pet poodle and loved crosswords. Mr. Chan who chewed sunflower seeds and watched soap operas from the 80s. Timmy who pounded his feet when he walked and puffed his chest out. But none of the stories included Ash.

She wondered, was this all her life had amounted to? Other people's stories? Here she was, walking the line between life and death and there was nothing of herself in her own memories.

She opened her eyes, trying to escape her own thoughts, and sucked in a deep breath. Before her was a dense forest of pine trees. The view was so beautiful. For a moment she wondered if the man had already pulled the trigger and if this was the afterlife. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad.

But then a strong wind tore through her clothes and the pain in her head and cheeks and knees came back like a blaring siren. Her whole body began to shake from the cold and the fear and she suddenly wanted the stories back. She didn't care if they weren't even hers.

She closed her eyes, begging for the faces to return when the shot of a gun rang out.

**********************************************************************

FIGHTING DUCKS!! WHAT THE FLIPPIN PANCAKES WAS THAT!!

AHHHH!!! THAT JUST HAPPENED!! IS ASH DEAD! WHAT ABOUT ZACH! WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?!?!

*coughs* Sorry, I stealing your reaction from you, go ahead and freak out. I'll wait.

If you're down flinging pillows, flailing your arms, and generally looking like a crazy person, go ahead and share your thoughts. If you have coherent ones, that is. 🗯💬💭

Hehe! Now you know, Zach is CIA. Or was. (And that could be in the sense that it's just in his past or he's dead. Hehehe feel the sense of foreboding I'm hanging over you)

I'm really curious if any of you have now put it together of who Zach is? Recruited at a young age? Zach? CIA? Average looking but disappears easily?

Okay I'll tell you! I can't wait! He's from Gallagher Girls! I KNOW!! SO GREAT!!

If you don't know that series by Ally Carter, you honestly should because it's what inspired A Secret Service.

But my sister liked Zach the most out of all the characters and wondered what he would be like if he left the CIA. And here we are!!

I'll share more if he lives! Who knows, this could be the end for him. We shall see!

Vote, comment, follow but only if you have ears.