A/N: Characters are Steph's, personalities are mine!

Two updates, one day! sorry, I'm just very excited about the story! I also want to apologize, I'm slowly but surely figuring out how to work the publishing so excuse my editing mistakes if any are found!

Things are about to get exciting! Enjoy the chapter! :)

5: Pressure

Ihadn't seen or heard from Emmett since Dwyer's death, and that was two weeks ago. I heard from a resident he attempted suicide, and another that he locked himself in the basement. That would be the probably answer if we had a basement. I hadn't had time to search for him, either. Word had spread that a fellow from the outside had somehow gotten in contact with Black, and told her he was coming to help us.

That was enough pressure to last me a lifetime.

I've never met anyone from the outside before, and this was beyond alarming. Why now? Why suddenly, was this…whoever he was…gracing us with his presence? Did he have answers? Information? Information about the humans? The testing? Them? The whole process didn't make sense to me. It was too sudden, too fitting for timing. We have been having one of the worst months on record—especially with Dwyer's death.

No one as prepared for it to happen, not even the other two attendings. They have also been MIA since her death, causing the fellows to step up their game, and believe me, it wasn't easy.

I walked down the aisle where we usually sat. It was damp—odd for what it usually was. I watched my feet as I made my way to the main room, where all the beds were. Still no sign of Emmett, and I was really beginning to be worried. What if the rumors were true? What if he did something? Hurt himself? Pulled a Jessica?

Or what if he was just gone. Slowly as the weeks went by I was beginning to think that was the case. No one had seen him, no one had heard from him. However I don't even think anyone besides Alice and I cared. They all had their own problems to deal with.

That's how I came to the answer that this place wasn't "in the zone". They weren't looking out for everyone's best interest.

They were selfish.

One of our own, a fellow, someone who was supposed to know how to treat these kinds of things, royally screwed up. Yes, he did. And it was horrible. But shouldn't we be there for one another? For support? One of our own tried to escape and died, being only fifteen years old.

The more I thought about Jessica and I's talk over Sumo, the more she began to make sense. Statistically, we were helping no one. We weren't doing anything so spectacular. We were just helping them accomplish the goal they set out to do.

Destroy mankind and start the world over.

It was quiet in the aisle, so quiet I could hear my shoes clap against the floor. This time, no dust motes, just the crunch of the dirt as I squashed it under my foot. As I walked, I began to kick the dirt, feeling the dirt stick to my scrubs and some fly up my nose and into my mouth, and down my throat. It was comforting—as comforting as dirt could get. It created noise. I wasn't used to silence. Silence was disarming to me, even if there was nothing to be afraid of. Silence made me anxious, on edge, and cold.

I continued down the aisle, kicking my dirt.

There was a shuffle.

I stopped, and stood for quite some time. The aisle was dark—there were no lights. I saw nothing except the black darkness that consumed me, forwards and backwards. It comforted me, the darkness. It's what I knew.

I heard the shuffle again, and with my feet planted, I turned to face behind me. I don't know what looking around the dark was doing for me—maybe calming my nerves that were on edge? I don't know. The shuffling was still there, not seeming to get any closer or farther.

I decided to continue walking.

I proceeded down the aisle, and resumed kicking the dirt, faster than usual. The more noise I created, the more at ease I felt. Noise made me feel at home. It was never quiet here, always a monitor beeping, someone screaming at another, someone dying. Someone trying to hide their sniffling sobs in the aisle as we casually walked by, pretending not to notice the tears pooling on their cheeks.

The more I thought about it, the more depressed I got.

This place was depressing.

The shuffling was getting louder and louder and was closing in on me. Except, I didn't quicken my pace. After all of this death, I figured there was no point.

Closer, closer, closer.

There was a light flashing above my head from behind. Swishing back and forth, doing a dance on the ceiling I never knew existed. The shuffling—which I now recognized as footsteps—was so close I could feel the dirt swash on my legs.

I turned, to face Alice, her black hair and blue yes glinting in the dull light of the flashlight she was holding.

She shined the light right in my face and my eyes, naturally squinted and I backed away from the light, with my hands shielding my face from it. My eyes burned and I knew she hurt them. "Shit, Alice," I said, bending at the waist, rubbing my eyes. "What the hell?"

"I knew it was you kicking the dirt," she informed me.

I stood up still glaring at her through the light that was invading my eyesight. "Congratulations," I deadpanned. "Mind telling me how that entitles you to burn out my corneas?" I said, glaring and crossing me arms over my chest.

"Whatever," she said facing the flashlight up so the light faced the ceiling—which was made out of cement? The light was enough to capture both of our faces. "I need to talk to you."

"About?"

"Emmett."

I sighed a long sigh. "Alice…." I began. I didn't know how to approach the subject about how I thought he was gone for good. How do you tell your closet friend that your other closest friend was gone? Was he even gone? There were so many unanswered questions and it made my head spin. But no one had seen him in close to three weeks since the accident…right?

She stopped me by waving her hand in front of my face. "No, listen," she prompted. She pulled me into the nearest room, closed and locked the door. "I've seen him."

I blanched. "You what—" I began to screech. I saw red. How could she have been in contact with Emmett and not tell me? Who was this girl?

She quickly put her hands over my mouth, dropping the flashlight with a thud on the dirt. The flashlight blinked a couple times and shut off, making the room as dark as night. "Will you shut up," she began. My eyes adjusted enough to the dark so I could see her look at the ground where the flashlight lay. "Great," she sighed. "That was the one good flashlight."

I licked her dirty palms so she would release my mouth.

She gasped and quickly wiped her palms on her scrub pants. "Ugh, Jesus Christ, would you not?" I saw the disgust on her face and I chuckled.

I looked around and located a bed to my right, where I walked and laid down on it, with on leg hanging off as well as on leg. I realized it was a bunk bed. I looked at Alice, egging her on to continue with Emmett.

She continued, "Anyway, he's fine."

I deadpanned, "Fine? He's been MIA for, what, three weeks now? How can he be fine?"

"I'm getting there," she said. Rolling her eyes, she sat on the ground in next to my arm that was swinging off the bed. "I talked to him, and he said he was fine. He also said he was leaving."

I groaned. "Does he know—"

She interrupted with, "He found a way."

I sat up straight. What do you mean he found a way? I looked at Alice with disbelief. I got up off the bed and began to pace. What does she mean? Is there a trap door? It can be that easy! How long would he be gone? Where was he going? What was he doing? Would he be back?

I hadn't realized Alice was standing in front of me until I bumped into her. "What the hell does that mean, Alice?"

She took a deep breath, "I don't know."

"Is he coming back?"

"I don't know."

I put my face in my hands, and shook my head back and forth. How is this happening? I raised my head, blew the hair out of my face, and looked at her.

I looked at Alice for a long time. I could tell some of the light had gone out from her eyes since the last time I saw her—which now that I thought about it, had been over a week—and I racked it up the conversation she had with Emmett. She lost a best friend, too. She was just as clueless as I was about this whole thing, and I shouldn't be blaming her for something she can't control.

I could barely see how sunken her eyes looked—probably from the lack of sleep. I could see the usual raging blue in her eyes had turned to a dull color that had no name. Her lips were not as pink as they used to be.

She wasn't what she used to be.

"How long have you known this?" I asked quietly, looking at the ground.

I looked back at her to see her staring at the dirt on the ground, stepping on imaginary bugs crawling there. She shrugged, "Twelve days,"

I sighed. Twelve days. "How did you want to proceed?"

She looked at me in confusion. "What?"

I smirked at her and her eyebrows rose. "Well I assumed you had some sort of plan on how you wanted to go about this, right?" I chuckled. "I mean, you're you, Alice."

Her smile lit up her face. "I—"

Our monitors started beeping profusely. We checked them and saw it was an emergency. I looked at Alice, who, through the emergency beeps, was still smiling at me. It was beginning to get creepy. She suddenly hugged me tight, and just as quickly let me go. She ran to the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. She turned back around and smiled at me again. She held on the doorknob, halfway through the door and halfway not. She yelled over the beeping, "Give me three days!"

She ran the opposite way we came, toward the room with the Assessment.

I chuckled, looked at the ceiling, and sighed.

My monitor was beeping profusely, and that's when I remembered where I was and what I was doing. I checked it unnecessarily, smiled to myself, and ran the same was Alice did.

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