"Wait, your paintings?" I gape at him, gobsmacked. This day just keeps getting better and better. Just watch: someone's going to announce that they've discovered the cure to cancer and I'll have a heart attack. 

He chuckles at my astonished expression. "Yes, my paintings."

"How-what-where-"

He puts both hands up. "Get a hold of yourself. Let me explain."

I dutifully snap my mouth shut.

"I discovered the serum not more than three years ago. It was a great triumph, but then we saw that it had a rather... nasty effect on infected people. It didn't help them; it just increased their transformation." Bill shakes his head solemnly. "It was a huge loss. That is, until I decided to see what would happen if I tried it on a Creeper. The results were astounding. Can you guess what happened?"

My heart speeds as I come to the realization.

"It turned the Creepers back to people." I whisper. Bill nods, confirming my sentence. I rub my temple, unable to even consider what I'd heard. How is that even possible? I've lived my whole life in fear that the ones I care for would be lost to the virus, lost forever. 

But now there's hope. Weak and tiny, but hope all the same. With this, we could save so many people. We could reunite families, making them whole again.

Dad and Sam could come back to me.

Tears blur my vision and Bill smiles at me as I come to terms with his words.

"Lizzy, I've waited for years for someone to come out here and take the serum back to the capital, where we can manufacture it and inject the Creepers, turning them back. Finally, finally you're here. And you have the chance to save unthinkable amounts of lives. But it will be hard." Bill huffs disapprovingly. "President Harper has no love for the Creepers, and chances are he will be very hard to convince to administer the serum to the Creepers." He sighs. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but it's completely necessary. I need your word that you will convince him."

I gulp in a shaky breath, feeling like I'm stuck in the middle between disagreeing and promising. I agree with Bill; I didn't meet President Harper for very long but I could already tell that he is one of those slimy, oily men who only have their own wants on the agenda. It wouldn't be easy to make him change his mind but Sam always told me that my stubborn streak will be the end of me. 

But maybe, just maybe, it will be the thing that saves lives. 

I conjure up my courage and composure. I could do this; I had to do this. This may be my one chance to bring Dad and Sam back to me, where they belong. I have to. 

I hold my hand out and shake it firmly. There's no going back now. Bill's smile stretches so far it looks larger than his face.

"I know you can do it." He tells me, squeezing my hand. 

It's then that the alarm starts to scream. Bill straightens and a grave look washes over his heavily wrinkled face. 

Aria whips her head back and forth, hair fanning out around her.

"What's happening?" She yells over the insufferable screech of the alarm. I don't where it's coming from, but it's everywhere. 

I'm surprised my ears haven't begun to bleed yet. 

Bill walks efficiently to the front of the room, moving fast for an old man.

"You all must do as I say." He tells us firmly, eyeing each and every one of us slowly. 

"Not until you've told us what's happened," counters Oliver. Panic sparks in his deep green eyes.

Bill's lips twist.

"There's been a breach."

I inhale a breath sharply. I don't have to ask to know what's broken in. 

"I thought this place was invader-proof," Lucas asks, and I can hear the panic thick in his voice.

"It is." Bill shrugs. "These things happen sometime." 

Lucas sputters as Bill nudges the door open with his bony shoulder. He doesn't get anywhere until Oliver comes to help. Bill beckons us into the hall, which is swarmed with armed people. Olive streaks past, looking around wildly. When she sees us, her eyes widen with relief and she weaves through the crowd to get to us. 

"Take her with you, please," pants Olive. My brows kiss. 

"Who?"

From the crowd, hand tucked tight in Olive's, is a little girl, not more than 8. She sucks her thumb expectantly, looking at us curiously. A heavy feeling settles in my gut. This girl has probably seen more death than a girl her age should.

"This is Quinn. She's- she's my daughter."

We're all silent. Finally, Oliver speaks up.

"I never took you for the maternal type." Olive's eyes flare.

"Oh, yeah? Well, think again, bud." She snaps, transferring Quinn to Oliver, who looks down at her with a tender look in his eyes. He must be reminded of his sister, Lauren. 

"Hullo, Quinn," Oliver bends so he's eye to eye with the girl. "We're going to get you out of here." 

Olive's eyes soften. Her lower lip trembles.

"Mama?" Quinn whispers, her moist thumb still raised. Olive tears her gaze away and melts into the crowd. Quinn begins to cry, completely bawling, until Aria sweeps her into her arms and lulls her into silence. We watch her, shocked.

"I used to babysit," she says defensively. I can hear sounds of a fight in the Hive, and Bill must to, because he takes us the opposite direction. 

We push against the river of people, knocking some to the floor as we do. No one stops to help; everyone's too desperate to get to the Hive or get to safety. My guilt spikes as I watch a young boy instinctively curl into a ball as people stampede over him. I hesitate but Oliver rushes me along.

"We don't have the time," he tells me in a pained voice. I know he's seen the boy too. 

Bill breaks through the crowd, followed by the rest of us. Quinn's alert now, thumb firmly placed in her mouth. This must not be a surprise to her and I feel tendrils of pity for the little girl, who's most likely never had a true childhood. 

She'll have a good life inside the Dome, my mind coaxes. 

The door on the other side is a normal one, a cheery yellow this time. Instead of lifting my spirits, it just makes my mood drop farther. Helplessness is a terrible feeling. 

Bill heaves the door open and hastens us through, his hand moving at breakneck speed.

"Be safe, children." He nods heavily at us all but his gaze rests longer on me. The others notice, but are too frenzied to care. 

Guilt weighs heavy on my conscience as we run, bloodcurdling screams still ringing in the air.