Harold Clemmons drives up to the giant black gate and stops at a small automated kiosk. He swipes a little white card, picks up his walkie talkie and says,

"Tango One, Contacts have arrived."

Suddenly, the gate opens and Clemmons pulls forward, twisting down a narrow driveway. The path is smooth with freshly paved asphalt, the occasional bump from sticks and snow clumps spread throughout the driveway. As he makes the last bend around the corner they approach a quaint victorian house with a wrap around front porch and second story balcony overlooking the front yard. There are several armed men surrounding the property, assault rifles in hand as the chattering of radios echo through the yard.

"I'm going to take you two inside and show you around. This is where you're going to be staying until all this blows over," says Harold Clemmons.

"But how long is that going to be?" Alex asks curiously.

"We won't know that until we find out what the coordinates on that watch mean," Clemmons adds.

Blake rubs her hand up and down on Alex's shoulder and smiles.

"We're gonna be okay son," she says.

Alex sits up in his seat and stares out the window as they come to a stop in the driveway by what appears to be the snow covered front porch. The wind blowing, spinning the wind chimes hanging from the porch, clanging together in the breeze. They give the house a sense of tranquil bliss.

Everyone gets out of the car and starts walking toward the front door. The darkened sky leaves a crisp, eerie feeling in the air as Clemmons opens the door to let Alex and Blake inside the house. The living room is the first thing you see as you enter the house, casual yet modern, everything sits neatly in its place like a model home.

Each corner, and the hallways are equipped with cameras pointed at different access points throughout the house, the back doorway especially. Alex walks up to the French style doors and peers out into the backyard. It's lined with an eight foot tall privacy fence, and a guard posted every ten feet or so. Clemmons nudges Alex's shoulder and motions him to the hallway.

"This way buddy, I'll let you pick which room you want," he says with a smile.

The hallway is long and narrow, the light brown paint compliments the cream colored carpet seemingly hugging the walls. Small slits above each doorway expose the bottom of thick metal gates, they lock down and make entry to the rooms impossible in case of an emergency. Deadbolts on the top of every door, the keyholes facing the hallway, just another security measure. As they approach the end of the hallway, Harold Clemmons turns Alex around and says,

"Pick a room Alex, any of these can be your room."

"What about that one?" Alex asks, pointing at the room immediately to his left.

"That's the control room for us to keep an eye on the property. That room has all the geeky tech stuff in it," Clemmons responds with a chuckle.

"Hmmm.. Well, let me look in each room and then I'll decide," Alex responds.

Clemmons nods his head in agreement and Alex eagerly makes his way into each room. Inspecting the rooms one at a time, searching for anything that looks suspicious. Blake walks down the hall and takes the last bedroom on the left. She walks in and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, her mind pondering on the decisions made to wind up in this position.

---

The wind is picking up outside. The windchimes are no longer the musical background noise of a wintry afternoon, but the war cry of an impending snowstorm, quickly billowing through the sky like a wave of dark grey smoke. The armed guards from around the property have all gathered in the living room to stay clear from the onslaught of harsh snow outside.

"Is there anyway we can make some hot chocolate or some coffee? Try and warm everybody up?" Blake asks, searching around the kitchen for the coffee cups.

One of the guards stands up and walks into the kitchen. Opening up the narrow cabinet to the right of the refrigerator, he grabs a few cups at a time and sets them on the counter top.

"I usually make coffee every morning, so I know where most of the dishes and things are," says the tall, muscular man. "If you need anything just ask, the name's Carter," he continues with a smirk.

Blake smiles while glancing up from the corner of her eye, admiring the muscle tone of her coffee cup hero. His dark tan fingers accidentally brush against her hand while trying to grab a cup. The hair on her arm stands up immediately as she quickly rubs them, hoping he didn't notice.

The small black coffee pot is filled to the brim with water and turned on. Blake grabs the Mocha Caramel creamer from the fridge and lays out twelve cups on the counter.

"We have to get Alex enrolled in school tomorrow, and Ms. McDolen, your first day on the job is tomorrow," says Clemmons.

"I forgot ALL about that, with everything going on, it slipped my mind." Blake says nervously.

Alex steps out of the shower, down the hall, and into the living room in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. Greeted by the entourage of armed men surrounding his living room, he lets out a small nervous laugh and quickly turns around and heads to his bedroom. Blake laughs for a moment and starts passing out warm cups of coffee to everyone in the house, setting Alex's to the side until he returns fully dressed.

A few of the men stand up after finishing their cup and take a look out the window into the front yard. The snow has let up, a fresh, untouched white blanket covers the ground as far as either of them can see. Small indentations in the snow around the base of the trees and the tires on each car. Six men are standing in the living room, they turn down their radios, tell the house goodnight, and head to their vehicles. The remaining men take post around the house while one guy steps outside into the backyard.

"I'll take watch," he says as he shuts the back door. "Jenkins, I expect your rotation in four hours, don't make me come wake your ass up."