ACT I  SCENE VII
AKRISIOS

     THE FOLLOWING morning, Minho woke Cassandra up bright and early. It took a considerable amount of effort to get out of her hammock but a great deal more not to just roll off and fall onto the ground. And maybe burrow herself into it. She quickly used the bathroom and met up with Minho around the back of the Homestead. He cocked his head to the side and gestured for her to follow him.

They came to a little shack which he unlocked with a brass key. Inside was a dusty and mothball infested affair, so much so that it was actually pretty depressing. Odd and poorly crafted weapons hung about the room or were left strewn across several tables with numerous boxes piled haphazardly around the walls.

"This is where we keep our important klunk." He smirked at her as he walked further inside.

He pushed aside a few boxes at the back of the room to reveal a hidden door leading down to a basement. She hurried to follow after him when he managed to find the light switch. There were better weapons downstairs with boxes of neatly stacked shoes and clothes. He picked up a trainer and it was made of a shiny white material that almost blinded her when it reflected the light from the ceiling.

"Runner shoes!" He grinned. "A Runner's best friend. Well, second best friend."

"What's the first?" she asked curiously, then looked up when he hadn't replied.

He was staring at her with an odd expression on his face. "Um. Forget I said that, I don't think you'll understand."

She quirked a brow at him before rummaging through the pile of shoes in search for her size. Mercifully, there was a single pair right at the bottom of the stock, as if they had been waiting for her all these years. That was a creepy thought and she shivered inwardly at it. Minho also passed her a watch which she immediately strapped on, a backpack, two water bottles, a couple of knives and some new clothes.

After she got changed, they headed to the kitchen for breakfast and to pack lunch with some snacks for the day ahead. Newt gave her an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder when he saw her and she tried hard to smile in return. Lingering a few more moments in the Homestead, they finally made their way to the Doors. They stood side by side on its threshold and Minho turned to her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready to get in there," she responded honestly.

He chuckled. "Do you trust me?"

She grimaced. "Well, you're the only one that I can."

Minho grinned with amusement. "Good that. Let's go!"

He immediately sprinted down the corridor. Cassandra started with her heart thumping erratically inside her chest as she went after him. She could feel the wind against her face, breaths escaping her lips in quick puffs as she followed Minho's heels. Her eyes bounced from wall to wall, scanning every inch of stone and ivy that flew by.

They turned right and down another right, through a straight corridor before banking left in the middle. She tried to memorise their path, engraving it into her long-term memory by repeating the directions in her head over and over again. They ran endlessly and it was difficult for her to really observe their surroundings while on the move.

Minho had his knife out and was cutting off pieces of vines every three turns they made to mark their way. Glancing at her watch, they had ran for about forty minutes when Minho started to slow down his pace. They had just passed an uneven part of the wall that jutted out a bit further than it should. His footsteps dwindled to a stop and Cassandra almost crashed into his back.

"Alright," he announced. "Break time."

Cassandra sighed in relief. The burn in her legs was accumulating painfully and she bent over to catch her breath. Minho sat down on the ground against the wall and went through his pack, picking out an apple. She joined him with her own, slumping down and guzzling water down her throat.

"You shouldn't drink so much," he warned her and she pulled the bottle away from her lips with a pout. "It'll make you feel sick."

"How often do you usually take breaks?" she asked with a sneaking suspicion that he was going easy on her.

"Not often," he replied. "Maybe two or three."

"You're insane," she muttered under her breath. "This whole place is insane."

"So how's it so far?" he asked, ignoring that he'd heard her.

Cassandra shook her head. "Nothing is standing out to me."

"It's fine," he said. "We're not at the outer sector yet."

She turned to him in surprise. "Is it different out there?"

"Yeah. We're heading into Section One, it's full of pillars," he told her. "Maybe there's a clue there, a fresh pair of eyes might help."

She nodded thoughtfully and looked around the corridor where she could see ivy, ivy and more ivy. There was just ivy everywhere, twisting into dark crevices and interminably climbing up the rough structure.

"Have you ever climbed up the vines?" she asked.

"Yeah, but the vines don't go all the way to the top." He trawled his gaze upwards. "Can't even get a view of the place."

"What about the outer sector?"

"There're no vines there. Just different landmarks. This section has large bladed pillars."

She exhaled, feeling deflated. "Has anyone killed a Griever before?"

He laughed at the mere suggestion. "No one would even dare go within a hundred metres of one," he told her.

"Maybe there's a clue in them?" She raised her eyebrows and took a sip of water.

"Doubt it." He shook his head again. "Those things are nasty."

He stood up and held a hand out to her. She guessed it was time to move on and put away her bottle before taking his hand. They ran down more corridors, took one short water break and ran the last lap towards the outer sector. Cassandra could tell that Minho was being mindful of her by the way his body seemed tense, as if he was holding himself back.

The corridors were much wider there and just as Minho said, there were large blades lined neatly in rows. She headed up to the nearest one and touched its smooth surface. It was sharp. She craned her neck to examine it further but couldn't see any recesses or breaks throughout its length either. But the harder she looked, she found that some of the blades were stained with dried blood and it made her uneasy.

They jogged over to the other end of the sector before heading back in the direction they came from. Minho told her to take the lead when they reached the inner sector and she managed to get them back with four corrections—the vines do help out a lot.

The Doors slid close not too long after they arrived, metal and stone grinding against each other in a deafening rumble. She made it through her first day and felt relief crash down on her like a waterfall. But there wasn't any time to rest just yet as Minho ushered her towards the Map Room, spinning the submarine handle to open the door.

The other Runners were already back and they turned to look at her as she entered first, then Minho stepped in behind her to shut the door. A single table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by wooden chests pushed against the walls. Some were open and she spied stacks of paper inside, the table itself was littered with them too.

"Hey, Greenie," Lee greeted her with his trademark roguish smile. "How'd she do, Minho?"

Minho shrugged in reply. "Eh, not too bad."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The boy nudged a blonde boy next to him. "Hear that, Archie? Minho approves. Dude, she must be good."

"Shut yer yappin' and get back to work, Lee!" Minho snapped.

Lee snickered before sending her a mischievous wink. Cassandra bit her lip in mild amusement as she felt her cheeks grow warm. The Keeper announced the news to the rest of the boys that she was officially a Runner now. They cheered briefly, one of them saying that they got the first ever girl in the Glade. She wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be an honour.

"Okay." Minho grabbed chairs for the both of them to sit on. "Draw it quickly, use this as a template." He handed her a piece of blank paper and a pencil, then placed the map from the previous day of the same Section in front of her. "Write down the Section number and day of the week on the top right corner like that."

She did what she was told, concentrating on drawing out the map as accurately as she could possibly remember. Minho still had to correct her a few times. She tried picturing it in her head as a whole but she was too preoccupied trying to find a pattern in the drawings. There must be something that they were missing, something completely obvious. When she was done, she tried to compare the two maps together but she couldn't see anything significant.

"You'll only see a difference after a week," Minho told her. "Two days won't get you anything."

The disappointment she felt was acute. Not only had she not remembered anything from their run, but she hadn't found anything either. They exited the Map Room and made their way to the Homestead, running into Newt on the way. He looked expectantly at her with hopeful eyes, which made her feel even worse.

"Did you...?" he started. She shook her head and looked down but caught Minho nudging Newt and shooting the younger boy a look.

"Oh! Well, there's always tomorrow," Newt said cheerfully. "Can't expect you to magically solve all our problems now."

All she wanted to do was to have a shower and go to bed but Minho insisted she had something to eat first. She avoided eye contact with everyone and barely heard what Minho was telling her. When she finally laid down on her hammock later that night, she felt the instant rush of sweet respite.

     LOG 121: TA

Stage 2 Prophesy was a success. We were able to issue short pulses of high voltage electrical stimulation throughout the parieto-occipito-temporal junction linked to perceptual processing. However, it caused severe dampening in the neural plasticity of the subject. The estimated time for repair ranges from three weeks to two months. The subject will not be able to dream during this period.

The brain of an Immune is highly plastic, allowing neural pathways and synapses to remap themselves at a rate much higher than non-Immunes. The data from the reaction sample has also been interesting, with observations of negative activity in Point Zero. All evidence supports our hypothesis thus far.

We will assume Stage 3 Prophesy once the neural networks have re-established themselves. This will require activation of Point Zero and REM synchronisation between the two subjects.

This will be impossibly tricky, but entirely rewarding for our data analysis.

     He felt like an apparition as he walked down the dirt path. Everything felt familiar but at the same time, it wasn't. For a brief moment, he thought he was dead. That maybe a big ball of fire landed on the Glade and this was the afterlife. Minho wasn't sure what he was looking at but he knew that it was something completely bizarre. His feet stopped, crunching against some gravel and he looked up to find... himself.

The certainty of it took him by surprise but he figured that it was him as a child. It was a strange experience; to be watching and feeling the surge of emotions that plagued his younger self.

It was late in the afternoon and the sky was burnt orange all above them. He held onto a girl's hand tightly, as if it was his only lifeline, clinging with all his might. She wore a tense mask of fear with wide eyes that were filled with unshed tears, pooling around the corners but refusing to spill over just yet. All around them, people were scurrying about with looks of utter terror on their faces. Their parents were nowhere to be seen and no one paid any attention to them. He could hear yelling and crying nearby, a turbulence of noise that sent fear rushing to his heart.

"Let's go somewhere else," he said and she quickly nodded.

They set off in a familiar direction, through the narrow alleys of the wooden houses built in a tight knit community. All the doors were wide open and there was a frenzy of activity inside each one. Finally, they stopped by a house that they both knew well and waited outside for some kind of sign, or for someone to finally acknowledge their presence. But everyone was too busy with whatever that had them so scared.

They peeked through the gap in the door. There were two people that they recognised; a man holding a woman down against the bed with a rag stuffed in her mouth as she convulsed violently like she was possessed. Her eyes were glazed over and drool drenched the piece of cloth. The little girl beside him gasped in shock.

"Don't come inside!" the man yelled, his voice filled with panic. "Stay away!"

Minho pulled the girl from the door and stepped back. She started to sob, tears finally spilling down her round cheeks. His heart thumped painfully against his chest as he continued to watch in horror. Thick, dark blood started to flow down the convulsing woman's face. It came out of her eyes, her ears, nose and mouth. The man cursed loudly, his face overcome with despondency at the sight before him. He gave up on holding the woman down and grabbed her shoulders, crushing her against his chest, then turning her head away from them.

"Get out of here!" he yelled. "Don't look! Go!"

The little girl shrieked loudly, struggling against Minho's grip. He tried his hardest not to let go of her, knowing that everything was going wrong all over again.

"Mama!" she cried, her voice pitching shrilly.

Then screaming erupted all around them, coming from every direction; like a chorus of wailing ghosts. It suffocated him and all he could think of was to run.

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