I grab my jacket, fetch the paper bag on Dr. Whitman's desk, and leave. After I close the door and slide and sit on the floor. I don't know what to do. Celebrate? Shout? Scream? Party? I don't know. I cry. I bury my face in my hands and start crying. Crying for what? I don't know.

I am immune to the Flare. You hear me, Janson? I'm bloody immune. Tommy, Minho, Frypan, Teresa, I'm a munie, like you, shanks. The crank is immune. Please, be alive so I can tell you. Please. Please, Tommy, please. There's no one here I can tell but you, even if only in my head. I will tell you everything when we'll meet soon. I'll see you soon. Your vacation from my face is over. I'll look for you everywhere. I'll find you even if I had to search the whole globe. It's been so long without you. I just want to see you again. I hope I haven't gained this to lose you. I'll see you again. I will.

I don't know how long I stay like this; however, I'm glad that no one has come by until now. I know that there are probably cameras watching me right now, studying every movement I do, but still bloody better than encountering a real human. When I hear the sound of closing steps, I rise, grab my bag, and go down the corridor in the opposite direction.

I find a small, unused room that's used for detergents and those stuff. I don't know why, but something deep inside my brain tells me to go in. Despite how small and dusty the place is, I feel comfortable. I bet it's something from my memories that I can't remember, and I feel like listening to it. Whatever place I'd known like this, it must had made me feel good.

In the light of a dim lamp, I grab out what is inside the bag after I sit on a stool. In there is a toasted cheese sandwich wrapped in wax paper and an orange. Along with that are a bottle of water and tissue papers. I find a small note in the bottom of the bag written with black marker

Enjoy your meal :)

-S. Whitman-

I still don't understand Dr. Whitman. She said she knows things about me before WICKED. How could she know me before WICKED? I don't know. My shuck memory doesn't help either. I am sure that I must had known her before the swipe, and maybe I liked her even. There's something about her I don't bloody understand: a queer calmness and rest whenever I'm with her and Lennie. Lennie herself is a mystery: what her mother said about her, 'It is not so easy when you don't exist for the closest to you. I have tried when the closest to you not existing, and It sucks: having no idea where my friends are and living on hope; however, I bet that knowing, sometimes, hurts more than not knowing.

I eat my meal and drink my water quickly. When I go out, I meet Neal. "Hey, kid." He says. "Dating the broom?"

"The mop," I answer, trying to draw a laugh in my voice. "I've got the news," he says. "Congrats kid. That's something to cheer you up."

I frown a little. "Now, I've to find my friends."

Neal tightens his lips. "Soon," he says. A pause. "Hey, would you like to come with me to the Berg hangar?" he then asks. I have nothing to do, so I go with him.

~~~

The noise is too loud. The hangar is wide: not like WICKED's, but large. There's one Berg, and I find many technicians working on it. "When the pilots broke from WICKED, they sneaked a Berg for us to run." Neal says.

"Who broke from WICKED?" I then ask.

"Almost everyone who disapproved Dr. Page and got to escape: doctors, psyches, nurses, technicians, etc..."

I feel interested in technicians' work, so I ask Neal if there's anything I can do.

"Not dressed like this," he answers. He guides me to the dressing room. I find the closet storing working clothes: blue jumpsuits and black boots. They are all large, but I get to find something that fits me somehow. I dress and go out.

In the platform, I find a large map of the world with colors and drawings. "Where are we on the map?" the question suddenly comes up to my mind.

"The big, red point in the west, also known as Chicago," Neal answers while working under the Berg. "And where's WICKED?" I ask again.

Neal comes out, his hands all in black grease. He places one on my shoulder and points with the other. "You see that tongue stretched up on the left? That's Alaska. WICKED is there. Any more questions or you're planning to be helpful? You wanna be here, you gotta get your hands dirty."

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Hello! Hope you've liked this chapter. If you did, please consider giving it a vote and leaving your feedback. Anyways, my question is: if this place is said to be Chicago, and Newt had said earlier that the place is surrounded by high walls, where do you think they might be, or more precisely, who could have possibly lived there before???? I will be eagerly waiting for your answers. Thank you for reading!

GM