Okay, here is Chapter Five.

I couldn't sleep very well that night. I couldn't stop thinking about Brady. Those questions he'd asked me: "Can I trust you?" and "You're one of them?" What did they mean? Why could he only talk to me and not to them? Didn't he know that they wanted to help him?

I was finally able to drift off, but my dreams were filled with dark, empty rooms and raven-haired teenage boys who looked at me with scared hazel eyes. I also saw myself running through the halls of Headquarters, someone hot on my heels, but I couldn't seem to tell who. A stormy island also found it's way into my dreams, even though I've never been to any islands before, especially not that one. And I kept hearing high-pitched screams, but I couldn't tell if they were Brady's or mine or someone else's.

So it therefore goes without saying that I woke up bright and early the next morning, at 4:45 a.m. After lying in bed for a while, trying clear my head, I got up and went over to my dresser. Since I was going to visit the new refugee (excuse me, Brady) today, I was allowed to wear my normal clothes instead of my uniform, so I put on my favorite purple dress and sandals and then yanked a brush through my hair. I was about to leave when I suddenly remembered how cold it was down there, so I went back, grabbed my jean jacket, and pulled it on.

I made my way through the corridors till I got to the mess hall. I'm normally never here this early, so it wasn't nearly as crowded as I was use to. Only a few of the highest clearance personnel were there. Everyone else was probably still getting ready.

As I got my food and sat down, I could feel their eyes on me. Probably because they recognized me from yesterday's security footage of Sublevel Eight. They knew it was me who'd made a connection with Brady. I felt my cheeks redden under their stares. I finished eating my eggs at top speed and got up to leave.

"Are you gonna eat that?"
"Huh?" I looked down at a young male doctor, who was pointing at the cinnamon roll sitting abandoned on my plate. "Oh, uh…" I didn't really want it. Then I thought of Brady. He hadn't eaten in who knows how long, I'll bet he was pretty hungry. He might want it.

"Yeah, I am gonna eat it," I told him, snatching it up and tucking it in my pocket.

I hurried out of the mess hall and back to Room 456001, which was empty. I'd been expecting this, it was too early for my dad and Dr. Amélie to be here. I plopped down in one of the black, wheeled chairs and waited, my eyes on the huge screen across from me, which was showing the video feed from Sublevel Eight. It looked the same as it had looked everyday since he'd came here, just him sitting motionless, his eyes closed and his face peaceful.

What are you thinking, Brady? I thought, watching him. Where did you come from? What are you hiding?

Finally my dad and Dr. Amélie entered, both holding mugs of hot coffee.

"Mikayla?" My dad said, sounding surprised to see me.

"Good morning, daddy!" I greeted him, sounding a lot more cheerful than I felt.

"Good morning… you're up awfully early, aren't you, baby girl?" He asked. "I mean, it's not even six yet. You're never up and about till at least 6:30."

I shrugged. "I'm just taking my job seriously, daddy. Anything wrong with that?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not." He still looked disconcerted, though.

Dr. Amélie smiled at me knowingly. "She's just fascinated by the new refugee, right Mikayla? It is very interesting."

I nodded, returning her smile. Ever since we first got here, Dr. Amélie's been kind of like a mother figure to me, seeing as my mom died from cancer when I was five. Or maybe more like an aunt. I don't know, I just really like her.

"You can understand that, can't you Mason?" She continued when my dad looked unconvinced.

He lifted a shoulder. "I suppose."

"Mhmm." She nodded and winked at me. "Do you think it's too early to wake him up?"

"Could we?" I asked hopefully.

"I think so," she replied, picking up her headset. "Let me call in…" She pressed a few buttons and started talking into the receiver. "Yes, she's awake, we'd like permission to enter the Sublevels please." She waited a few seconds, then said, "Of course. I'll hook her up right away." She hung up and said to me, "You need to put your earpiece in."

"Do I have to?" I asked. "He doesn't like it when I have it in."

"I'm sorry dear, but it's regulation. They won't let you down there otherwise."

I made a face and took it from her.

Once she'd made sure it was in properly and called in again, I got permission.

"Do I need guards this time?" I asked.

She nodded "I'm afraid so. We can't be sure whether or not he'll be violent." She sighed when she saw my face. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but we have to."

I wanted to argue, but I decided to be passive for once and just do as I was told. I said goodbye to my dad and the doctor and headed down to the Sublevels with the guards.

We reached the door, I once again commanded them to remain outside, and I entered. My jacket didn't offer very much warmth, but I'd been in here enough times now that I only winced as I made contact with the frigid air. I crossed the room more quickly this time, my sandals slapping against the ground. I knelt down in front of his motionless figure and softly touched his shoulder. "Brady?"

He didn't say anything or move at all, but I could hear him breathing so I knew I'd roused him.

"You said you'd talk to me," I said. "So talk. Please."

"You go first," he said, still unmoving.

I jumped a little, still not use to the sound of his voice. "What?"

He lifted his head and looked at me. "You talk to me first. Tell me where I am and who you are."

That caught me off guard, but I complied. "My name is Mikayla. I work here."

"Where is here?"
"ASSULF Headquarters," I told him. "That stands for Association of the Scientific Study of Unusual Life Forms. We find and run tests on unusual… creatures."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I've heard of this place. But I thought it was called Area 51."

I shook my head. "That place is just a myth. We're different from them, we're not nearly as cruel."
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't say."

"Your turn," I said quickly. I didn't want to talk about this subject anymore. "How old are you? Where's your family? Where did you come from?"

He took a deep breath, then began to talk slowly and deliberately. "I'm seventeen years old. I come from an island called Kinkow. My family's… my family's…" His face contorted a little, a shadow seeming to pass over it. "They're dead."

"Dead?" I echoed. "Oh, I'm so sorry." I put my hand on his shoulder. "I know how you feel. My mom died when I was little."

There was silence for a little while, then I finally broke it. "What happened? How did you get to L.A.? Can you tell me…" Questions bubbled up in me, so many I couldn't possibly ask them all, so many I thought I might explode.

"I don't know if I can tell you," he said softly.

I sighed, then pulled the cinnamon roll out of my pocket and held it out to him. "Are you hungry?"

He looked down at it for a minute, then shook his head. "I haven't been hungry since… since it happened."

"Since what happened?" I couldn't help asking.

Brady looked up into my face, almost as if searching for something.

I waited for what seemed to me like forever, until finally he sighed. "Okay. I'll tell you everything."

Until my next post…..