She kept her face neutral, watching them pull an unconscious Andrew away before hoisting her away too. Solitary confinement didn't scare her. Ghost training had one worst -not that Blake or any of these soldiers would know that. As they crossed the field she caught the stares of the rest of the group and only shook her head slightly, telling them not to make a fuss. Andrew was alive, and that was important to her.
Two days in solitary gave her time to rest and heal, and she used it to her advantage. The rooms they used for solitary confinement were based in the security section of the football stadium, where they put the drunks or rowdy people until the police came. Simply put they were made perfect for confinement. On the second day, hours before she was to be released a guard came up to her door, opening the slot on her door normally used for food or water. As they were starving and dehydrating her, she didn't expect either, more curious at who was visiting her too early. A hand slipped in, and then pulled out, snapping the slot closed as soft footsteps walked away.
On the edge of the slot sat a piece of paper and a lockpick perfect for her handcuffs. The paper was a scrap from a notebook, with two words scrawled on it.
Here.
Seventeen.
She scrunched up the paper and stuffed it in her mouth, erasing evidence. Then she grabbed the lockpick, knowing time was short. If she read that right, help had infiltrated the stadium, and at five pm chaos would unleash. Her release was at 4pm, only giving her an hour to find her friends and map out a way to get them all out. This place was about to become a bloodbath.
