ACT III SCENE LIII
EUROPA

   CASSANDRA knew that it was a dream. Residual memories underneath the surface of her consciousness bled out to form a scene. The white sheets cocooning her was soft and warm, striking a stark contrast to the bitter cold snow outside the window. She felt arms wrapped around her and wished that time could stand still in that moment. That was all she ever wanted. That warmth.

"Cassie, wake up."

She kept her eyes shut tight, not wanting to disturb that peaceful scene in her memory. Though she could feel her body grow warm, beads of sweat trickling down her forehead. Her hands clenched themselves tightly, fingernails digging deep into the flesh of her palms.

"Cassie, please wake up!"

"No..." she whimpered. "I don't..."

"Wake up now!"

Cassandra drew in a  sharp breath, eyes flying open to complete darkness and salty sweat drops stinging her eyes. She blinked hard twice before looking around, stretching her arms out in front of her and finding only cool metal inches above her head. And her sides. She was confined all around in some kind of box.

"No..." She balled her fists against the lid. It was a morgue.

"Help! Somebody help me!" she screamed. "Let me out!"

Tears started to prick at her eyes, sobs ravaging her chest as she choked on her own words.  Cassandra beat her fists against the smooth metallic surface, its echoes reverberating all around her. Claustrophobia closed in on her like rabid wolves ready to pick apart at her fears. They couldn't just leave her there—she was still alive. She screamed in desperation, tasting its bitter notes on her tongue. Darkness had always crippled her with its irrationality, unknown demons lurking in its obscurities. But the worst thing was the silence.

Inside the box, she could hear everything all at once—her muscles contracting, her lungs expanding, the churning of her stomach, her bones creaking, eyelids flapping. She could even hear the minuscule charge of her receptors firing, blood rushing in and out of her heart. It was driving her insane  and she screamed to drown the sounds out. She screamed until her throat was sore and she passed out from exhaustion. Only to wake up and scream again.

   Hours passed, maybe even days, she had no idea. Her connection with Minho had been severed so there was nothing she could do but wait. Then after another eternity,  she heard a metallic click. A sliver of light appeared through a crack on her left. Cassandra jolted upwards immediately, straining against the heavy lid to push it open.

She took in a big gulp of cool fresh air, taking comfort in the bright white light that now surrounded her. Hastily, she clambered over the edge and fell heavily on  the freezing tiled floor. Her body immediately shivered at the contact and the  frigid temperature surrounding her. She hugged herself tightly and looked around in bewilderment.

The room was different  than the padded cell she had woken up in before. The walls here were  grey with a bluish tint and all around her were panels of frosted glass.  Instead of a bed in the middle of the room, the metal box she had fallen out of took up its space. To the right, on the other side of the glass barrier was another identical room. Her heart started to beat erratically in her chest, hands trembling with nauseous realisation.

It was the room they had locked her and Helenus in.

She would recognise the glass prison anywhere and it sent another chill running up her spine.  Looking around, there was a low table arranged next to the wall with a  tablet resting on top of it. Cassandra dragged herself to the device and picked it up gingerly. It  was touchscreen and she surprised herself by knowing how to use it. She  supposed it was just one of those things like mechanical memory. The screensaver of the WICKED logo faded to black before the home screen appeared. There were only two files—a word document and a video file.  She chose to read the document first.

WICKED MEMORANDUM — PROJECT SILENCE

Elite candidates have been selected from the possible sample, all of them possessing higher  IQ and a propensity for curiosity. They are ideal in that they will be able to provide us with empirical data relating to the project and their interactions with each other's partners.

GROUP A: THOMAS AND TERESA
GROUP B: ARIS AND RACHEL
GROUP C: HELENUS AND CASSANDRA

UPDATE 1012.34.5
HELENUS HAS BEEN REPLACED WITH SUBJECT A7 FOLLOWING HIS TERMINATION AS A VIABLE SUBJECT.

WICKED MEMORANDUM — PROJECT CERBERUS

Data from case studies on Subjects C1 and C2 have found that the virus takes root in the prefrontal cortex, particularly the region for emotional attachment.  Stimulation in this area would yield interesting results in the virus pathway.

ATTACHMENT VARIABLE: MINHO AND CASSANDRA
BETRAYAL VARIABLE: THOMAS AND TERESA
GRIEF VARIABLE: ARIS AND RACHEL

WICKED MEMORANDUM – PROJECT GENESIS

Log 213:
We have discovered a  most extraordinary finding in one of the children that was brought into  the facility. The virus has not spread across the Killzone like everyone  else, healthy tissue has been diagnosed as clear from infection. It is  remarkable; we now have a starting point for us to build a blueprint and  retrace the virus' pathway as it spreads across the Killzone.  Preventive measures can first be taken before we find a full cure.

Log 214:
Another half-Immune was found today—a  boy this time. He seems to have weak health, something to do with a  genetic heart defect. Hoping that this will not affect results. C1 has started to show peculiar symptoms, possibly a result of increased neural activity caused by the virus crowding only one region of the Killzone. This will require close scrutiny of irregular behavior.

The reports stopped there and Cassandra guessed that was the extent of what WICKED wanted her to know. She went back to the home screen and selected the video clip next. It was dark for several seconds before there was a loud rustle. Light penetrated through the blackness of the screen and the footage from a beetle blade emerged under a bush in the Deadheads. The first thing Cassandra saw was a boy hunched on the ground with his hand  outstretched over a grave, palm flat against the wooden cross embedded in the dirt. He looked up and she saw that it was Nick with tears streaming down his face.

"I'm so sorry,  Stephen. I thought I could fix things but I can't. They won't let me tell the others what I know but I can tell you. Dead men tell no tales,  right?"

He took a deep shuddering breath and Cassandra unconsciously leaned forwards. Stephen?  She recalled the time when she had to clean the graves in the Deadheads with the Baggers in her first week. There had been a sprig of fresh wildflowers lying on the grave. Nick must have been really close to the boy.

"I saw so many things during the Changing. The world ending, Cranks, a virus, my...my brother...I found out what happened to him. I have to get him back. They have him trapped in there. Cassandra and Minho, I knew them too.  They saved me. I have to help them—help us."

He sniffled and let out another heavy sigh. "I wish you were still here. I miss you."

There was the sound of a twig snapping from nearby and Nick sat up straight, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Then Cassandra's own voice called out to him, "Nick?"

The video ended and  Cassandra sat there, numbly staring at the tablet. She didn't know what to make of the new information fed to her but sadness squeezed her heart tightly in its grip. Nick. He had known all along. A moment later, the door to her room opened and she whirled around to look at who was visiting her now. If it was the  Rat Man, she was going to throw this thing at his shuck face.

But it wasn't Janson who entered the room. Cassandra gasped and stumbled back into the metal box behind her. She felt her body start to tremble as memories of the blonde woman in front of her flooded her mind. It was like staring at a ghost.  She was the last person Cassandra had expected to ever see again.  Perfectly lined red lips smiled back at her deceitfully.

Doctor Clark.