Murder In The Maze (Maze Runner Fanfiction)

Chapter 28: No Cure

     Adrenaline shoots through my veins, pulsing beneath my skin.  Instinctively, I dash through the corridor, sprinting towards the silhouetted figures.  The damp air catches on the back of my lungs, which forces me to choke, but I push forward.

     As I approach, my vision sharpens.  Alby limps to a wall, a torn rag drenched in blood clinging to his ankle and trailing to the path beneath.  His eyes stare coldly to the ground.

     Minho hunches over the body on the ground, blocking his face.  He cocks his head to the side.  "He...needs...help," Minho pleads through ragged breaths, collapsing beside the body.

     Thomas lies helpless on the ground; his face is ashen, drained of colour.  His chest rises and falls with short, laboured breaths.  Veins bulge across his arms, riddling his body and neck.  His shallow breathing trembles and is barely audible over the Glader's voices behind us.

     "We need to get him to the medbay," I state, forcing confidence into the words.  My heart skips a beat, fluttering feebly.  Taking a deep breath, I thrust aside the fears lurking in my mind and focus on the task at hand.  

     A sudden influx of Gladers swarms around us, circling Thomas; bodies clam together and begin to form a tight circle.

     "He needs to get to the medbay, now!" I demand.  Almost instantly, a handful of Gladers pour in closer, lifting his arms and legs.

     Swiftly, the group begins carrying him from the Maze, heading towards the med centre.  Their pace seemingly quickens with each passing second as they draw closer, with me following behind.

     The medbay door swings open, a well-placed kick landing in the middle of it.  Thomas is flung on the table at the end of the room, bottles and bandages flying off it.

     Thomas' arms jolt upwards, flailing into the air as he fights against the Gladers.  Blueish veins creep up his neck, pumping furiously.  He shrieks in agony, the piercing cry echoing through the room.

     My hand fumbles as I pull a small glass jar from my pouch along with a rectangular plastic bag.  I bite down on the plastic, ripping it apart and grabbing the injection.

     "Let...me...go!" he shouts as froth bubbles from his mouth and sprays in all directions.

     "Hold him down."  Unscrewing the lid, I plunge the injection into the clear liquid and pull on the handle.  The injection fills the line in a matter of seconds.  Tilting it out of the bottle, I push down on the handle, dispersing the air bubbles.  Taking a deep breath, I slide through the crowd and stab the injection into his upper arm.

     Almost immediately, his muscles relax.  Thomas lets out a heavy breath, his eyes closing over.

     "Why did you kill him?" one of the group accuses, his eyes wide in shock.

     "It's an anesthetic, he'll live," I pause, my focus reverting to Thomas, "...for the moment."

     "What do you mean?" Frypan inquires, appearing from the small gathering.

     I motion my hands towards Thomas.  "I can't fix him, not once someone's been stung.  There's no cure."

     Slowly but surely, the group begins to disperse: each guy leaving the room one by one until Jeff and I is all that remains.

     "What is going to happen to him?" a feminine voice asks.  Teresa stares through the doorway with a piercing gaze.  She folds her arms, gradually entering the room.

     "I don't know..." I respond, the words sinking in, "...when he wakes, he'll be crazed.  There's nothing much I can do for him."

     Darting her head to the side, she glances around the room.  Hesitantly, Teresa slips her hands into her pockets and pulls something out.  Shielding my view of the object, she gnaws at her lower lip, squinting suspiciously.

     "Would...this help?" she questions, opening the palm of her hand.  A red vial rest in the centre of it surrounded by a metal cylinder. 

     "Where did you get that?" Jeff pipes in whilst reaching to touch the vial.

     "It was with the letter when I woke up," she states blankly.

     Smacking his hands away, I take a closer look.  Six letters are engraved at the top, 'WICKED.'

     Jeff shrugs.  "Maybe it's the cure!  We should test it."

     "On who, exactly?" I scoff.

     Jeff points to Thomas, raising his eyelids.  "Him.  He's already sick, you know as well as I do that when Thomas awakes, he'll turn feral, probably try and kill us all!  At least this way he has a chance."

     "Or he could die!" I growl, throwing my hands into the air, "he's not an experiment!  We don't know what that could do to him."

     "He might die anyways," Jeff remarks.

     "I am not using that," I reaffirm, "and neither are you."

     In one quick swipe, I snatch the vial from her palm, stuffing it into my pouch.  The girl barely blinks, her gaze fixed to Thomas.  

     Turning back to Jeff, I continue, "Either way, we still need to check on Alby before Thomas wakes.  It looked like his leg was injured pretty badly."

     Jeff sighs, shrugging his shoulders.  "Okay,"

     Just as the words leave his mouth, another figure steps through the open doorway; Alby limps closer, resting on the edge of a bed.  Crimson blood rolls in streaks down his leg and drips to the floor.  A deep gash penetrates his skin from his lower calf to his ankle.  Raw, torn skin surrounds the open wound, a wet rag partially covering it.

     Upon seeing Alby, Jeff grabs the water bucket from under the table, then the makeshift first aid kit on the wall and runs over to him.  Water splashes over the side of the bucket, dampening the floor.  Jeff tosses the kit on the bed and the bucket on the ground.

     I follow behind and sit on the bed opposite Alby.  

     "What happened?" I question, unlatching the medkit.  My hands run along the surface of the supplies as I search for the gauze pad.

     Alby ignores the question.

     Dipping the gauze pad into the water, I continue, "Okay, well, I'm going to have to clean this.  It'll hurt."

     Alby nods, clenching his jaw.  After a brief moment, he begins to speak, "The Griever, it wasn't dead."