Singularity (n): In astronomy, a point in which all physical laws are indistinguishable from one another, where space and time are no longer interrelated realities, but merge completely and cease to have any independent meaning.

I was jolted out of my daydream by Damon gently patting me on the back. I sucked in a deep breath. Jorge had landed the Berg. We were here.

As we stepped off the Berg, I took a moment to look at my surroundings. I'd never seen this place before, at least not up close. We had landed in a clearing along the beginning of the forest that stretched up the mountainside. Some of the trees were dead, but some were green and had leaves, making me think that there was hope for this planet after all.

The air was surprisingly cool, helping me to clear my head a little bit. Up ahead, about a hundred feet, there was a huge wooden wall that stretched out up into the mountains. The Crank Palace was inside that wall. Newt was in there. It was like I could sense it. The air around me suddenly seemed to crackle with energy. I glanced at everyone else, trying to see if they could feel it too, but everyone was too busy staring at the wall ahead.

I saw a gate in the wall begin to open, and two people appeared, presumably guards. They seemed tired as they slowly raised their weapons - Launchers - up at us.

"Not a good start," Jorge said.

One of the guards yelled something, but I couldn't tell what he said. "He wants us to put our hands up and start walking over," Damon said.

"All right, let's go over there, then," said Thomas. "They must be immune if they have those Launchers."

"Unless the Cranks took over," Minho said, meeting Thomas's eyes with a twisted sort of smile. "Either way, we're going in, and we're not leaving without Newt."

"Listen, if things start to go south, let me do the talking. I can get us in, one way or another," Damon said, winking at me.

With our shoulders squared and heads held high, we approached the guards, raising our hands up as they'd asked. I was able to make out more of their individual features as we got closer, and what I saw was rough. Both men were very dirty, sweaty, and covered in a myriad of scratches and bruises. I suppressed a shudder as I thought of what that could imply about what went on in the palace.

When we were a few feet away from the guards, we stopped. One of the guards, the taller of the two with black hair and a mustache, said, "Who the hell are you people? You don't look much like the science goons that come in sometimes."

Jorge and Damon exchanged a glance, and Damon gave him a sharp nod. "You wouldn't have known we were coming, muchacho. We're from WICKED, and one of our guys got captured and taken here by mistake. We'll be picking him up."

Well, it wasn't a total lie. The WICKED part was kind of true. However, the guard raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You think I give a crap about you and your fancy WICKED jobs? You're not the first uppity-up to drop in here and act like you own the place. You wanna come hang out with Cranks? Be my guest. Especially after what's been going on lately." He stepped to the side and made a giant sweeping gesture with his arms, as if to sarcastically welcome us. "Enjoy your stay at the Crank Palace. No refunds or exchanges if you lose an arm or an eyeball."

I gritted my teeth. This place was a lot worse than even I could've imagined, and the thought of Newt being here, all by himself, made me sick. We had to get to him.

"What do you mean 'what's been going on lately'? What's happening?" Thomas asked.

The guard shrugged. "It's just not a very happy place, and that's all you need to know." I waited, hoping he would elaborate, but he didn't.

We needed more information, but these two sticks were about as helpful as WICKED was with curing the Flare. "Look, we need help finding someone," I said, my voice shaking a little. "Has there been any new...erm, people brought here today? Like maybe this morning?"

The other guard, who had been quiet so far, answered this time. He was short and stout with a shaved head. He cleared his throat and spit, saying, "Who you lookin' for? A he or a she?"

Now we were getting somewhere. "A he. His name is Newt. He's about a head taller than me, blond hair and brown eyes. He has some kind of accent. Oh, and he has a limp," I finished.

The short guard spit again. "I might know somethin'. But knowin' and tellin' are two different things. You kids look like you got plenty of money. Wanna share?"

I looked at Jorge, whose face was now pinched in anger. We should've known they wouldn't help us without wanting something in return. However, before anyone could reply, Damon stepped forward, a smirk forming on his lips.

He confidently moved towards the guards; they aimed their Launchers once again. Damon took no notice of them. "Hey buddy, I'd watch it if I were you."

Damon tilted his chin up. "I don't think money will be necessary, now will it, fellas?" Confusion crossed both of their faces, but their eyes soon glazed over. Damon was compelling them. "Because I'm sure you'd be happy to help us out of the kindness of your dumb old hearts." I could just hear the arrogant smile in his voice, and I fought back a smile of my own.

The guards, whose jaws were now both slack, nodded slowly. Damon smiled a full, toothy grin, though he didn't show his fangs. "That's what I thought. Now, why don't you lead us to Newt."

With that, the guards led us through the gate. I smiled at Damon, loving how he put his compulsion to good use yet again. The brief moment of levity was quickly crushed by the reality of the Crank Palace. I made the mistake of asking the guards about what exactly went on here. The short one explained that it was a village of some sort, which I already knew. He said that it was made up of rings within rings that contained communal areas, such as cafeterias, infirmaries, recreational facilities, and housing. The communal areas were in the middle; the housing encircled them. The Cranks stayed here until they were too far past the Gone. At that point, they were taken to remote places where they were then killed.

Though the Crank Palaces sounded nice in theory, shockingly, putting a bunch of infected crazy people into close confines only led to crime and degraded conditions. And, with no way to really enforce any consequences, the Crank Palaces were now just godforsaken hellholes. By the end of his explanation, I wished that I would've just kept my mouth shut and not asked for more details.

The guards led us past home after home, though home was a strong word for what the shacks really were. Most of them were falling apart - nearly all of them were missing windows. The guy explained that the windows used to have glass in them, but the residents had broken them to use glass as weapons. Trash lined the streets, but I found it strange that we hadn't seen any actual people yet. Still, I felt as though we were being watched the whole time, and a cold chill crawled up my spine. The tension in the air was so thick that I could hardly breathe. As soon as we found Newt, we had to get out.

"Why don't they just close the place down?" Thomas asked after the guard finished his explanation. "I mean - if it's gotten so bad."

The guard scoffed. "Gotten so bad? Kid, bad's a relative term. This is just how it is. What else are you gonna do with these people? You can't leave 'em hanging out with the healthy folks in the fortressed cities. You can't just dump 'em in a place full of Cranks way past the Gone and let 'em get eaten alive. And no government's gotten desperate enough yet to start killing people as soon as they catch the Flare. This is it. And it's a way for us Immunes to make some good money, since no one else would ever work here."

Sadness joined the dread that had taken up residence in the pit of my stomach. I focused on the ground, trying to block out my thoughts. How was humanity ever going to survive this? What was the point of all we were doing if, at the end of it all, there wasn't even a world left to survive this?

I felt Damon's arm wrap around me. He had noticed my reaction to all this. "Hey, Chatty Cathy, why don't you do less talking and more walking. We'd like to find Newt today if it's not too much trouble," he snapped.

The guard fell silent, and the men led us through more winding streets filled with dirty, broken homes. Thomas's curiosity got the best of him as he asked yet another question. "Where is everybody? I thought this place would be packed wall to wall. And what did you mean earlier about something happening?"

The tall guard turned to look at Damon, as if to ask permission to speak. When Damon didn't say anything, he answered. "Some - the lucky ones - are vegging on the Bliss in their homes. But most of them are in the Central Zone, eating or playing or up to no good. They're sending us too many - and faster than we can ship them out. Add to that the fact that we're losing Immunes left and right to who-knows-where, decreasing our ratio each and every day, and things were bound to reach a boiling point eventually. Let's just say this morning the water finally got hot enough."

This time, it was me who asked a question. "Losing Immunes left and right?"

"Yeah, almost half our workers have disappeared over the last couple months. No sign of 'em, no explanations. Which only makes my job a thousand times harder."

I gulped. That didn't sound good. It reminded me of what Jorge and the others had seen in Denver - the city being almost empty by the time they left. Could the two phenomena be connected?

Damon cut in. "Just keep us away from the crowds and put us somewhere safe until you find Newt," he said, making eye contact with both of the guards. Their eyes glazed over, and we continued walking.

____________________________________________________________________________

When we were about two rings away from the place they called the Central Zone, the guards stopped and told us to wait in monotone voices. Newt was in the Central Zone most likely, and though I desperately wanted to go in there with them, Damon forced me to stay back. "Wait until they get back with him. He's unpredictable right now, Y/N, and I don't know that you being there will help. Besides, I don't want you going in there without me."

That, at least, I could understand. As we stood and waited for them to get back behind some shacks, I could hear screams and other terrible noises from inside the area surrounding us. For some reason, I felt like there was some kind of fight that was about to break out, and when it did, it wouldn't be pretty. I hoped that we would find Newt before anything happened.

We'd been standing around for about ten minutes when a couple approached us. We asked them if they'd seen Newt, but they acted like they didn't know who he was. When we told them we were immune, they instantly turned their noses up and walked away. I'd forgotten how much Cranks hated Munies.

Another ten minutes passed. I was starting to shake, bile churning in my stomach. What was taking them so long? What if I was wrong? What if Newt wasn't here? If he wasn't here, then where would he be? Just as I was about to lose my mind completely, I spotted the two guards in the distance. But Newt wasn't with them.

Ice cold fingers of anguish gripped my heart, squeezing it so hard that I began having trouble breathing. I clutched Damon's arm. "He's not with them. Where is he?" I said frantically.

"It's ok. I'm going to figure it out," he said, tightening his jaw.

As soon as they were close to us again, I said, "What did you find out?"

Both men seemed uncomfortable, for they hadn't completed the job that Damon had compelled them to do. The short one looked fearful, his eyes darting around like he'd seen something he wished he hadn't.

The tall one answered. "Took some asking around, but I think we found your guy. Looks just like you described, and he turned toward us when we called his name. But..." he broke off, exchanging an uncomfortable glance with his partner.

"But what?" I pushed.

"He said - very pointedly, I might add - to tell you guys to get lost."

If my head would have been covered in molten metal from those tunnels in the Scorch, I was certain it would still be preferable to hearing the words that he'd just said. "But...but..." I sputtered, trying to form a sentence, but failing.

This couldn't be happening. I felt myself going from hurt to angry in seconds. How dare he, I thought, livid once again. He'd promised that we would talk about our kiss in the morning, and then he left. And now, we'd come to save him, and he told us to leave? But that didn't matter. We were leaving with him, whether he wanted to or not. He wasn't dying before I could get a few things off my chest.

Damon jabbed a finger in the guards' faces. "I guess my instructions weren't clear enough," he spat. "We wanted you to find Newt and bring him to us. You idiots are about as bright as a shattered lightbulb," he said, moving even closer to them.

The guards' eyes both widened in fear. "Look man, we tried," the short one said. "He wouldn't go with us. If you want to get him, you'll have to go in yourselves."

Damon opened his mouth to reply, but Jorge stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. Damon took the hint and stepped back, but his eyes were still seething with anger, and I thought I caught a glimpse of their bright blue color darkening, but only for a moment. "Ok, ok we get it, hermano. So I guess we're going in, then. You can show us where he is."

The guard shook his head quickly. "Uh uh. We're not going back in there. It's getting crazy - I think they're going to start some huge brawl any minute now."

Damon squinted at the guards. "You heard him. We're going in," he said, his pupils dilating with the compulsion.

The guards' faces went from scared to blank in a matter of seconds. They turned and headed back in the direction they'd come, but this time, we followed them.

The guards led us through the streets, closer and closer to a large archway in the center, which I figured was the Central Zone. Now that we were getting closer to it, we had to step around several people that were lying all over the streets and sidewalks. The guards swung their Launchers around each time someone approached us, and that kept them at bay for right now. Some people we saw were staring ahead with glassy, empty looks in their eyes. It struck me that they were probably on the Bliss, which explained why they were so calm and indifferent compared to most Cranks. At one point, we passed a thin, frail man who was stumbling all over the place. His clothes were in tatters, and he was covered black goo with rashes all over his skin. Eventually, he fell on a Blissed-out teenager, and the kid began beating him senseless immediately.

Thomas stopped, as if he intended to help the man, but the short guard said, "Don't even think about it. Keep moving."

"But isn't it your job to-"

The tall guard cut him off. "Shut up and let us handle things. If we meddled in every squabble and catfight we saw, we'd never be done. We'd probably be dead. Those two can sort out their own problems."

"Just get us to Newt," Minho said, and Damon nodded subtly in agreement.

I shuddered as we left the gruesome scene. I wanted to help, but my desire to get to Newt was far greater. Did that make me a terrible person? I clenched my fists, steeling myself against the intrusive thoughts. We could only save one person here realistically, and it had to be Newt.

If he would let us save him.

After a few more minutes of walking, we reached a high wall with an archway that led to an open area that was crowded with people. There was a sign at the top of the arch that had big, colorful letters that read "Central Zone." I couldn't tell what everyone inside was doing, but it seemed like everything was pure chaos.

The guards stopped, and the mustached one said, "We're here."

"Let's go," Minho said.

"Your friend is in the bowling alley," the other guard said.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Take us to him," Damon ordered.

Thomas and Brenda followed behind the guards, while Minho, Damon, Jorge, and I walked behind them. I took a deep breath and puffed out my cheeks as we followed the guards into the throng of people. As we got closer, my heartbeat sped up. I wanted to turn and run away. It was the same feeling that I got in the Scorch when we were going to get food after we first met Brenda and Jorge. I knew something bad was going to happen then. I did now too, even though I didn't have Damon's voice in my head warning me about it. But I had to ignore the feeling. I couldn't leave Newt here.

We wove through a circular area that had once been lined with various shops and restaurants. However, now most of them were boarded up and abandoned. The Cranks inside were exhibiting every emotion - sadness, happiness, fear, anger - but it all seemed elevated. The laughter wasn't just laughter, it was maniacal cackling. The crying wasn't just crying, it was gut-wrenching sobs. The screams weren't just screams, they were guttural, animalistic cries. Small fights had broken out all around us; we did our best to dodge them, though a new one seemed to spring up every second. The noise reverberated off the walls that surrounded us, filling my head with the unpleasant sensation of overstimulation. I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to prevent an oncoming headache.

There were other guards mixed in with the Cranks, each carrying Launchers of their own, but they were greatly outnumbered by the infected. Some Cranks sat in huddled groups, their heads snapping around, eyes filled with paranoia as we walked by, as if they were expecting to get attacked at any moment.

"Remind me not to buy any real estate here," Minho said, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Where's the bowling alley?" Thomas asked nervously.

"Over this way," the shorter guard said, leading us to the left. We all stayed pressed against the wall, doing our best not to be noticed by anyone. As we passed by, some Cranks stopped their feverish activities, but most of them resumed them after we left. We all kept our heads down, not wanting to accidentally start a conflict with anyone through eye contact. I heard all kinds of insults and crude comments get thrown at us as we walked by, but it all melted into the background.

We passed a run-down convenience store, an empty doctor's office, and a dark sandwich shop. I was surprised at how much the government must've really tried to make this place a functioning community. Too bad it failed epically.

Ahead of me, Thomas stumbled backwards as a woman grabbed his shirt. He frantically reached up to swat her hand away, Damon starting to move towards him. The woman had dark, messy hair and a scratch on her chin, but besides that, she looked like one of the more normal people in here. She frowned as