Henry's hands hover over the laptop keyboard, his fingers twitching as if typing out an answer he doesn't yet have. Elijah's last email plays over in his mind, the cryptic suggestion about "power" inside the Fear House teasing him like a puzzle with missing pieces. But as he thinks about what Sam just accused Elijah of being, Henry seeks to defend him.

Henry gets up from the desk chair and walks towards Sam, who stands still watching him coming after her, her arms crossed, her expression torn between irritation and concern.

"I'm telling you, Elijah is real!" Henry states, his voice fervent. "He's not working for SEED. He's trying to help us."

"Or he's feeding you lies," Sam counters, her tone sharp. "How do you even know he's not part of SEED? What if all these things he's telling you—the blackout, the hackers, the stupid Star Trek metaphors—are just another way for them to mess with us?"

Henry's chest tightens, his mind racing to find a response. "He's shared things with me. Personal things! About his family, his abuela, his brother... things SEED wouldn't bother making up."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? And how do you know any of that is true? Because he said so?"

Henry falters. "Because... because it feels real."

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, I don't want to crush your only lifeline here, but you need to ask yourself why SEED would let you have a 'friend' helping you if it wasn't part of their game. You're smarter than this, Henry."

"He's not SEED!" Henry insists, the words bursting out of him. "He's my friend!"

Before Sam can respond, a voice cuts in from across the room. "Sounds like someone's getting a little defensive," Austin says, leaning casually against the wall. His smirk is razor-sharp, his eyes cold.

Henry glares at him. "Stay out of this, Austin."

Austin pushes off the wall, striding closer. "I'm just saying, it's awfully convenient that you're the only one talking to this supposed hacker friend. Maybe you're the one working for SEED."

Sam pauses when she hears that wild accusation coming from Austin.

Henry's mouth falls open. "Are you serious?"

"Think about it," Austin continues, his tone mockingly reasonable. "You've been glued to that laptop since day one, claiming you've got some guy on the outside helping us. But what if you're feeding him information instead? What if you're the mole?"

"I'm not the mole!" Henry shouts, his voice cracking. "And you're one to talk, Mr. 'I'll throw Lynne under the bus to call my daddy.'"

Austin's smirk vanishes, replaced by a flash of anger. He steps closer, his chest puffed out. "Say that again, nerd."

"You heard me," Henry snaps, his hands balling into fists. "Maybe Serena left you because she realized you're just a selfish jerk who only cares about himself and not just a pretentious cheating jerk."

The tension between them crackles like static electricity. Sam steps between them, shoving her hands against Austin's chest to push him back. "Enough! Both of you! This is exactly what SEED wants—for us to turn on each other."

Austin backs off reluctantly, but his glare remains fixed on Henry. "Fine. But don't expect me to trust him."

"I don't trust any of you," Sam mutters under her breath, the words like a slap in the face.

Before anyone can respond, a deafening horn-like siren blares through the house, making them all jump. A blinding white light floods the room, forcing them to shield their eyes.

"What now?" Austin shouts over the noise, his voice tinged with panic.

The siren continues to wail, the light so intense it's impossible to see. For what feels like an eternity, the teens are trapped in this sensory assault. Then, as abruptly as it began, it stops. Silence and the regular illuminance descend like a curtain.

Sam lowers her hands slowly, blinking against the afterimages burned into her vision. "What the hell was that?"

Henry shakes his head, still disoriented. "I don't know."

Footsteps echo from the hallway, and Lynne and Maddie emerge, both looking equally shaken. "Did you guys see that?" Maddie asks, her voice trembling. "It happened in our rooms too."

Sam glances at the cracked camera lens above the screen. "Mother?" she calls out warily, but there's no response. The red light remains dark.

"Hey," Lynne says, pointing toward the kitchen. "What's that?"

They all turn to see two baskets sitting on the bar counter, their contents gleaming under the dim lighting. Cautiously, they approach. The baskets are filled with food rations— canned meat, dried fruits, vegetables, nuts, some precooked meals, crackers, bread slices, and snack bars —and medical supplies, including bandages and ointments.

Two notecards rest on top of the baskets, each labeled with a name:

Maddie and Austin

"Guess this is our reward from that team challenge." Austin says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. He grabs his basket, rifling through it with greedy hands. Maddie picks up hers more hesitantly, her eyes flicking to the others.

"Guys," Lynne says, her voice breaking. "The pantry is basically empty. There's barely anything left for the rest of us."

Sam's jaw tightens. "Austin, Maddie, you need to share. This isn't enough for all of us to survive."

Austin snorts. "Why should I? I earned this."

"Earned it?" Sam snaps. "You mean by pretending you care about people. Some kind of victor. Real noble of you."

Maddie looks down at her basket, her expression conflicted. "Maybe she's right," she murmurs. "We should share."

Austin glares at her with an amazed look. "You can do whatever you want with your stuff. But mine's mine."

Sam exhales sharply, her frustration mounting. "Fine. Be selfish. See how far that gets you." She turns to Maddie. "Thank you for doing the right thing."

Maddie nods, setting her basket on the counter. "Let's make something everyone can eat."

***

At the dining table, for the first time in days, the teens sit together in tense silence, hoping to have a good group meal. Though unlike the recent meals, this one is just a meager meal of tuna, dried fruits, and nuts. Several glasses of water near each of them. Except Austin sits apart at the end, enjoying his private feast from his personal rations. The atmosphere is heavy with distrust, each teen casting wary glances at the others.

Sam on the other end, stares at her plate, her appetite nonexistent. While the teens stay quiet, the voices of doubt and suspicion that SEED had implanted days ago—using the others' voices and the late Keith's voice as harsh suggestive thoughts—has unexpectedly creep back to their minds like venom. However this is different. Across the table, Austin's jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing as new, vile thoughts take hold.

"Henry's lying."

"Elijah is SEED."

Austin stares briefly to the right side and spots Henry trying to finish up his plate. Austin doesn't know what to do, but these insidious thoughts are telling him something else.

"Henry has been covering his tracks."

"He's the killer."

This time, these mischievous thoughts are not coming from a mashup of his fellow roommates' voices or the voice of their fallen roommate, Keith. This accusing voice is that of his own.