Return of the Trumpwife

Taken

The couple went off in different directions down the hall, hastily searching each room along their respective routes for the boy, but he was nowhere to be found.

Minutes passed, and Jeananne found herself at the far end of the White House. A cold current slunk past her bare legs, riddling her fair skin with goosebumps. She followed the subtle airstream to a set of doors leading out to the back lawn of the White House that were wide open. The young woman stared out into the dimness of the early morning, shrouded in fog.
"Damn it, Barron," Jeananne grumbled, unwilling to face the frigid morning in her bathrobe. However, knowing Barron was no better off outside in his own attire, she walked through the doors and stepped timidly across the frosty lawn in her bare feet.
"If I lose my toes because of this kid, I swear to--"
"DAD!" Barron yelled.
"Barron!?" Jeananne responded, running into the fog towards the sound of his voice. "Barron, answer me!"

There was no reply. Jeananne hugged herself; her body seizing in the cold with each step. Her feet were wet and numb, and she could barely speak through her stiff lips.
"Barron!? Where are you!?" Jeananne cried out; her voice echoing across the still lawn. She waited for a response, discerning rapid, crescendoing footfalls on the crackly ground behind her.
"Barron?" she said.

A hardness struck the back of her head, and her world instantly went black.