Okay, I left you on a cliffy last night, so without further ado, Chapter Three!

The door was really heavy, and at first it didn't budge. But I'm a Makoola, and Makoolas do not take no for an answer. So I kept on pushing with all of my strength, and finally, after about three minutes of strong shoving, the door swung slowly open.

This was it. No going back now. I had to just do it. I let go of the door handle and stepped inside.

I was immediately enveloped in frigid air, so cold it literally took my breath away. I staggered back a little, panting, trying to get it back. It felt like icy hands were gripping my lungs, squeezing them so tightly I had no chance to get a breath in. I started to cough, still unable to breathe. My whole body shook form the strength of my coughs. My eyes were watering, blurring my vision so I could barely see. I backed up against the wall and leaned against it, coughing and praying for help.

And then suddenly, as if by magic, a little wisp of air managed to get down my throat around my coughing and I started to wheeze. About a minute later I'd stopped coughing and was able to breathe normally. It was still inhumanly cold and there were tear tracks on my face, but I could breathe again. Shivering, I took a better look around the room, examining it, taking it all in.

It was about twenty-five by twenty-five square feet, and the ceiling looked about ten feet tall. The entire room was made of shiny black stone, probably obsidian. The new refugee was leaning against the far wall, his legs sticking out in front of him.

I walked closer (but not too close) to get a better look at him.

His head was tilted up at the ceiling, his eyes closed. His expression was calm, his features unmoving, and his lips were unsmiling. He had fair skin and short, scruffy dark hair and he was wearing black shorts, a blue t-shirt, and a red-and-blue plaid shirt.

I knew that I'd done what I'd wanted to do. I'd gone inside Sublevel Eight and gotten a closer look at the new refugee. Now I needed to go back upstairs and do my chores like a good little girl. But I didn't do that. Instead, I reached out my hand and started walking towards him.

The voice in my head was screaming, STOP! Don't go any closer! If you touch him you'll die! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!

But I ignored it. I have no idea what came over me right then, but it was like all of the sudden I couldn't control my actions. It was like my brain had just stopped working and something else had taken control. I could hear the voice in my head trying to stop me, but I couldn't stop. Right then I couldn't have stopped what I was doing anymore than I could have stopped the sun from rising this morning.

I was right in front of the new refugee now, so I crouched down and reached out a quivering hand to him. I knew when I touched him I was going to die, but I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to stop myself. Bracing myself for the painful death that was unavoidable, I extended my hand a bit farther and touched the tips of my fingers to his warm cheek.

But I didn't die. I wasn't electrocuted or killed in some other unknown but horrible way. I didn't even feel any pain. Not a single twinge.

Something unusual did happen when I touched him, though. As soon as my fingers brushed against his face, his eyes popped open and his head turned towards me.

Our eyes met. His were hazel, just like the folder said, and they were looking at me in a way no one had ever looked at me before. It was almost like he was reading me, exploring my thoughts and looking into my memories. I looked right back at him, wondering if I could read him the way he was reading me, but as I stared into those dark hazel eyes, I knew that was impossible. They were empty, as empty as this room had been before he'd arrived. I could see nothing in them.

I jerked my hand away and staggered to my feet, stumbling away from him, my eyes still fixed his face. I couldn't seem to tear them away.

As soon as my hand was pulled away, his eyes closed and he was motionless again.

The door swung open and two guards came in.

"Miss Makoola, you have to leave. You're not authorized to be here," the first one said.

I looked at the new refugee, who was still motionless, and nodded. "Okay, I'm leaving." I walked past them, up the stairs and back to Room 456001.

"Mikayla," my dad said as I entered. "We saw you on the video feed. Everyone did."

I just nodded. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"You touched him," Dr. Amélie said, sounding awestruck. "You touched him and you didn't die."

I nodded again.

"And what's more," she continued. "When you touched him, he responded. He's been here for a week and he never showed a single sign of when you touched him… something happened."

"I don't know what it was," I said quickly.

"We'll find that out eventually, but that's not the most important thing as of now," she said, turning back to her computer. "What is important is that you can get him to move and respond. Maybe you could even make him talk. This is the miracle we've been waiting for!"

"So… you want me to go down there and get the information you need out of him?" I asked.

She nodded.

"No," my dad said. "Absolutely not. True, she touched hims safely once, but you can't guarantee he won't kill her next time."

"Mason, this is our only chance," Dr. Amélie said firmly. "We must-"

"No," my dad said, equally firm.

"Daddy, I have to help!" I said. "He's only seventeen. I need to help him."

"He's dangerous," my dad said.

"He's just an innocent teenage boy!" I cried. "He's my age. He's lost and hurt and probably really scared. I just want to help him be safe. What if he was your kid? Wouldn't you want someone to help him? What if it was me, daddy?"

My dad looked at me for what seemed like forever, then he sighed and said, "Okay Mikayla. You can help him."

"Thank you daddy!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him and hugging him. Then I turned to Dr. Amélie. "What do I do first?"

Hope you liked it… Please review!