The Academy

~Chapter Two~

"Blair, it's time to get up, honey," Mom said, as she shook me awake. I slowly opened my eyes and stretched out my muscles.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, sleep clouding my voice.

"It's eight in the morning," Mom answered. I grunted. I drew back the sheets from my body and sat up on the bed. Dad was already moving things out of the bunker and upstairs. Well, at least the house didn't get bombed.

I stood up on the cold, concrete floor. I pulled a drawer open under my small cot, grabbing a set of clothes from it and putting them on. Now onto making the bed.

After pulling the sheets up on my bed, I began to pack up my things to take back upstairs to my room. Once finished with that, I hauled both bag and pillow case over my shoulder and started to climb up the bunker ladder. I then climbed up the stairs that lead from the basement to the main floor. After a short trek going halfway through the house, I trudged up the set of stairs that lead from the main floor up to the second floor. I turned right, as I reached the top of the stairs, toward my room.

I slowly shuffled into my room. Knowing that I wouldn't need to unpack my things anytime soon, I chucked both bags onto my bed. As I turned to leave the room, something unusual caught my eye. I jerked back around to see what the mysterious object was. It wasn't an object at all: they were two people.

I jumped back in alarm. Both men were dressed in a beige uniform. Their pants puffed out slightly at their waist, then slimmed out, and they both wore black berets on their heads.

"Wh-who are you?" I demand, jumping into a defensive position. Who could they be? Spies from the enemy countries? Soldiers sent here to kill me?

"Please do not worry, Miss Kensington, we are not here to harm you," a stout man with a strong Italian accent said.

"That wasn't my question!" I fired back. "Tell me who you are!" My voice cracked under strain.

"There is no time to explain this now," a taller, African American man with a deep, tenor voice answered.

"What are you here for, then?" I questioned harshly.

"Still no time to explain," the African American man stated. "We have to move quickly. Please, come with us." Both of the men walked toward me. They each put a hand on my back and quickly ushered me forward. We walked down the stairwell and onto the first floor. I began to panic.

"Mom, Dad!" I cried to them. Mom and Dad came rushing into the room quickly. The men were pushing me toward the door.

"Blair!" Mom cried. Mom began to run toward me. Suddenly and out of no where, two more men, dressed in the same beige uniforms and berets, popped out from behind walls and restrained my parents from chasing after me. I struggled against the men's hold, but their grasp on me was too strong. What was happening? I was terrified.

"Mom! Dad!" I screamed for them.

"Blair!" I heard them scream back. "Blair, we love you, sweetheart! We love you!" Tears started to jerk into my eyes. Was this really goodbye?

"I love you, too!" I yelled back through tears.

The men pushed me toward a black Lexus parked in front of the house. As we drew closer to it, the short, Italian man opened the back door for me, and the African American man shoved me in and buckled me into the seat. Both men got into the front seat and started the engine. I strained against the seatbelt and tried to pry the car door open to let me out. To no avail.

The car started rolling. It started off slowly, but quickly gained speed. I turned around to watch the house I had lived in, the house I had grown up in, disappear into the trees. More tears formed in my eyes.

"Now will you tell me who you are?" I inquired through my tears. The front seat was silent for a second.

"We are the Witness Protection Program," the Italian man stated. The Witness-what?

"What is that?" I asked.

"It's an organization that dedicates itself to protecting those accused of a crime or deed that jeopardizes their safety," the African American man answered.

"So why am I here?"

"You were falsely accused of the start of World War III, weren't you? You may not realize it yet, principessa, but you've got a lot of people coming after you," the Italian man said. "You're a witness, and you need protecting."

"Then what are you going to do with me?" I inquired.

"Well, first, we take you back to headquarters, and we give you a 'makeover' so to speak," the Italian man said. I didn't like the sound of a "makeover".

"Then, we give you a new identity," the African American man continued.

"And then, we relocate you to somewhere that no one will be able to find you," the Italian man finished.

"Where's headquarters?" I asked.

"Atlanta," both men said together. Atlanta was over two hours away, so I had two hours of a car ride to kill. I let me hand fall down on my lap. It hit something hard. My cell phone! My heart skipped a beat with happiness. I pulled it out of my pocket. I couldn't believe my luck. It still had the charger plugged in! I released a sigh of relief. At least I had some way of contacting my parents.

I slipped my phone and charger back into my pocket. I didn't want the men to see it in case I wasn't allowed to have it. It was the one thing I had left to hold onto. Pictures, videos, text messages, so many memories on my phone. I decided that I was going to hold onto it for as long as I possibly could.