Agent Han jumped, and made a fast, hard swing down at Chase's head. Chase blocked with the scythe's handle again, but this time it didn't hold. Han's sword sliced cleanly through it. Chase tried to adjust her grip on the bladed end, to salvage it as a sort of massive sickle, but Agent Han kicked it out of her hand first. Chase was unarmed.

Swoosh! Swoosh! More sword swings. All Chase could do was dodge. Blocking now would mean losing a limb. As Han poured on the pressure, Chase was forced to retreat, doing a handspring off a countertop over a wall to their left.

She landed in the adjacent room, one with very different décor. A rack, a stockade, an iron maiden, a guillotine. Heavy iron cuffs hanging on the walls.

The torture chamber! Chase had helped decorate it. She knew there was something here that could help her, and also knew exactly where to find it.

Just as she picked it up from a table of oddly shaped torture devices, Agent Han's sword carved a gash in the wall, then another. The girl angrily pushed her way through the shredded cardboard.

Chase turned and faced her. In her hand was a long black whip.

The two girls sized each other up. Han re-evaluated where they both stood. The whip did not have much killing power, but Han was now sorely disadvantaged in terms of range.

Wa-tiss! Chase cracked the whip at her. Han jumped to the left. Another crack, aimed at her feet. Han jumped back, and slashed at the whip with her sword, in an attempt to shorten its range. She might have taken an inch off the end. But Chase's speed and unpredictability with the whip was formidable, and after a few more slashes Han was no closer to striking distance.

Another crack, and the whip was at her legs. Agent Han jumped...too slow! The whip coiled itself around her, binding her legs forcefully together. The girl fell to the grass and immediately began to struggle to free herself.

Chase gave the whip a mighty, two-handed pull backwards, as though she was reeling in a fish. Agent Han was yanked up off the ground, and with another sling of the whip, she was hurled across the torture chamber. Han landed on the bed of the guillotine, her neck directly in harm's way.

With a flick of her wrist, Chase wrapped the end of the whip around the release lever, and pulled it. The blade fell, the crisp sound of metal scraping wood tearing the silence of the night.

Reacting in an instant, Han did the only thing she had time for. She blocked with her sword.

To Chase's amazement, the sword didn't break. Han pushed the blade up and slipped out from under it, letting it drop behind her. As she rolled off the bench onto her feet, Chase slung the whip at her again, this time curling it around the girl's sword. She pulled, but Han dug her heels into the turf, locked her grip, and pulled back, kicking off a tug-of-war.

For a few minutes, Agent Han was able to match Chase's strength. But she knew she wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. Her wounds, the blood loss, were catching up to her. Was Chase feeling the same way? She had to be. But she sure wasn't showing it.

Suddenly, Han let go of her sword. Chase, who was still pulling with all her might, lost her footing, stumbling backwards off balance. Han was on her in an instant, tackling her to the ground.

Her hands closed around Chase's throat. She squeezed as hard as she could, holding nothing back. Chase found Han's throat in turn, and with a burst of strength, rolled the girl over onto her back. Now Chase was on top, she had the leverage.

Han's eyes widened. Chase was still so strong. Clearly hurting, but still so strong. Her neck may as well have been a paper towel tube. This girl was a monster.

Han kicked, sending Chase tumbling head-over-heels off of her. The two girls rose at the same time, but Han was just a little faster.

Whop! A kick to Chase's chin. Whack! A kick to the side of Chase's head. Chase stumbled backwards, off balance.

BOFF! A heavy foot to Chase's stomach. Chase stumbled backwards even further, and this time, her back hit a wall. However, this wall wasn't cardboard. It was wood. There were other, shallow walls directly on either side of her.

And to her left was a door. The orange light of a jack-o-lantern glinted off the metal spikes covering its interior face.

Chase was in the iron maiden.

She had barely realized this before Han spun another kick against the door, slamming it shut.

Chase saw the spikes coming at her in slow motion. A few select moments of her life flashed before her. To her relief, there wasn't anything from the old times, before she came to Sunnycrest. They were all happy memories, of she and her new friends.

The iron maiden closed with a solid snap. Agent Han heard an orchestra of metal piercing flesh within.

She waited. Her temples pounded. The iron maiden didn't move. Slowly, blood began to seep out of the bottom, pooling around the device.

It was over. Agent Han felt herself breath a sigh of relief. She turned to pick up her sword.

BOOM!

Agent Han whirled around, just in time to dodge the flying iron maiden door. It had been blown off its hinges. The spikes trailed blood through the air.

With the door gone, it was as though a dam burst. Blood was pouring out of the iron maiden around Chase's ankles. And there the mountain girl stood. She was perforated with holes, and there wasn't a bit of white left in her dress, but she stood.

And then, she took a forward step. Agent Han suddenly felt herself possessed with an emotion she had never felt before. She would not live long enough to be able to identify it: Fear.

She spun around again, diving for her sword. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt. At the same time, she felt Chase's hands on either side of her head.

Chase gave a twist. For a second, Han was looking Chase in the eyes. And then, everything went dark.

After letting the stranger's body slump to the grass, Chase faltered. Suddenly, she felt so tired, so numb. She pitched forward. She tried to move a leg to catch herself, but she couldn't feel it, and it didn't respond to her command. Chase collapsed to the turf, and lay still.

….......

When Melissa C. opened her eyes, the filtered light of an overcast day was shining through the high basement windows.

The brunette looked around. She was lying on a metal slab, surrounded by electronic equipment. Against the far wall was a run-of-the-mill hot water tank and shelves of nondescript files. Lindsey was sitting at her side, reading a fashion magazine.

“Lindsey?” asked Melissa C. Upon exercising her throat, she found it was dry.

Lindsey looked at her as Melissa C. sat up. “Melissa C.! You're awake!” she shouted excitedly, putting her magazine aside. She turned her head and called in the direction of the stairs: “She's awake!”

Melissa C. tried to remember how she got here. All she was met with was confusion, and a slight pain in her head. She put her palms on her temples, leaned forward, and asked, “Ooof. Where am I?”

“Don't worry. You're in Lawrence's basement,” said Lindsey, in a comforting way. “You're safe.”

“Who the hell is Lawrence?”

“Oh, uh...just a guy.”

Deciding it was too painful to sit up, Melissa C. laid back down. She rested her wrist on her throbbing forehead. “What am I safe from?”

Lindsey was careful with how much information she revealed. “Somebody attacked the maze. She hurt you pretty bad.”

A female figure floated through Melissa C.'s mind. “That's right...” said Melissa C. “I remember...a girl.” With another throb of pain, the image was gone. “How long have I been out?”

“Just the night. It's November first,” said Lindsey. “Don't worry about your parents. We told them you were staying at my place. Lawrence's parents are passed out drunk. They don't know you're here either.”

“Thanks, Lindsey,” said Melissa C.

Caitlin was alone when she heard Lindsey's call. She was sitting in Lawrence's living room, flipping through a National Geographic magazine left on his coffee table. After doing all he could for Melissa C., Lawrence wearily went up to his room for a nap, and Willard and Flor went home around three in the morning.

“Sorry, Caitlin,” Flor had said, as they stood in the living room together. Through the open front door, they could see Willard sitting on the front porch, lacing up his boots. “If I'm not home in bed tomorrow morning, my mom'll freak out.” She affected a mexican accent to imitate her. “'Where were you last night?' 'Who did you stay with?'”

“No problem. Don't worry about it,” replied Caitlin with a smile. “I think me, Lindsey and Lawrence can take it from here.”

Flor looked up at her and smiled. “But, I mean, I do want to be updated on her condition. As soon as she wakes up, I want to know.”

There was a slyness in her voice that Caitlin noticed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So I should probably have your phone number. Just in case.”

Caitlin snorted. She gave her a coy smile. “What good would that do? How would YOU being able to call ME help you stay notified about Melissa C.'s condition?”

“Don't think about it too much,” Flor had requested.

As soon as she heard Lindsey, Caitlin woke Lawrence up, and the two of them went downstairs.

“You're awake,” he gratefully told Melissa C. “Thank goodness. How are your memories?”

“Fine,” she said. She looked inside herself for a moment. “I mean, as bad as they were before. But I remember everything up to when my amnesia started.”

Melissa C. asked him to explain what was wrong with her, and he carefully gave Melissa C. the same explanation they gave Willard and Flor. She accepted it.

“Pacemaker, huh...I didn't know that,” she said. She was looking thoughtfully into space, her eyes pointed in the direction of the water tank, but not seeing it. “I guess there's still a lot I don't know about myself.” She looked at Caitlin. “Thanks for bringing me here. You're such a good friend.”

Caitlin smiled. “Well, like I said, I had Willard and Flor's help. Chase really did the most for you. She brought you out of the maze.”

Melissa C. looked up at the ceiling. “Chase is a good friend too. She's amazing, isn't she?”

Hearing her say that, knowing how little she recalled from her and Chase's shared history, made Lindsey and Caitlin feel a bit uncomfortable. It wasn't that what Melissa C. said wasn't true. It was just that Melissa C. might not have been saying it if she knew. “Yeah. Chase is really selfless. She stopped that girl, but first she hauled you out of there and made sure you were safe,” said Caitlin.

“Was the fundraiser ruined?” asked Melissa C.

“Oh, not at all!” beamed Lindsey. “We raked it in! Spring break is definitely in our reach!”

“Spring break! Spring break!” chanted Caitlin.

Melissa C. smiled. “That's good.”

“How are you feeling?” asked Lawrence. “Any abnormalities?”

“Er, just thirsty. I don't know if that's an abnormality or not,” said Melissa C. “And my head kinda hurts.”

Lawrence looked confused. “Your head? Hmm. Interesting. Caitlin, could you hand me her charts? They're right on that shelf behind you.” Caitlin glanced behind her, and saw the shelf of nondescript files. “And Lindsey, could you get her a glass of water?”

Lindsey made for the stairs as Caitlin turned around. There was a clipboard lying on one of the middle shelves. As Caitlin picked it up, something on the shelf caught her eye. Wedged in between two files was an unlabeled jewel case for a CD. Curious, she slid it out of place and looked at it.

Through the clear cover, she saw the disc was a burned DVD-R. In sharpie, words were written on its white surface.

As Caitlin read them, her heart leapt into her throat. Fear filled her. No. It couldn't be.

She glanced over her shoulder. Lawrence's back was turned to her as he checked Melissa C.'s temperature. He hadn't seen. Caitlin quickly stuffed the disc under her shirt.

Over the sound of blood rushing in her ears she heard Melissa C. ask, “Where is Chase, anyway?”