Stay With Me

1

Calm. You shouldn't be calm right now. Not while trapped in a cage that was speeding upwards through darkness at who-knows-how-many miles per hour. Not when the only thing you could remember was your name. Not when you didn't know where you were or who you were or what was happening.

But you couldn't help the overwhelming calmness that wrapped around you like a blanket. Why were you so placid? So peaceful? What was the strange sense of deja vu that poked at the back of your mind? You pressed your back up against one of the crates that was bolted to the floor of the cage, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your forehead against them. Waiting. Hopefully the cage would stop soon.

. . .

After what felt like hours and hours of flying upwards in the cage, your moving prison finally came to a jolting stop. An alarm had been sounding for sometime now, gradually growing louder as you unknowingly got closer to the end of the ride up. Now that you'd stopped moving, the alarm was the loudest it had been, and you could hear voices above you shouting over it. You picked your head up at the sound of other people, hoping they'd let you out of the cage. Almost on cue, the ceiling opened up and warm, bright light blinded her momentarily. She squinted up at the people surrounding the cage, letting her eyes adjust to the sunlight.

"It's a girl."

"No shucking kidding, Gally."

"Slim it, both of you." They all stood around your cage, staring at you.

"Can someone, maybe, help me out of here?" You asked, standing up in the cage. Two guys, a slim blonde who you'd noticed spoke with a thick accent and a dark skinned, well built man, offered you their hands. You took them both and they hoisted you out of the cage.

"So," said the blonde, "shall we do introductions? I'm Newt."

"Alby," said the other man who'd helped you out of the cage. Upon closer inspection you decided he wasn't a man, he appeared to be closer to seventeen or eighteen years old. In fact, everyone looked like a teenager.

"Gally." A muscular boy with a sour expression on his face.

"Minho," said another boy to your left, offering you his hand. You took it in your own and shook hands.

"Zart."

"Ben."

"Frypan."

"Chuck!" You whipped your head around, learning everyone's names in quick succession. You smiled at the most enthusiastic kid there, Chuck. He looked no older than twelve or thirteen years old.

"Hi," you said to him, giving a small wave. He grinned back at you.

"You got a name, Greenie?" You turned to face the blonde, Newt.

"Yeah. I'm Y/N," you said, trying to speak loud enough for the forty or so boys could hear you, "I've got a few questions, who should I ask?"

"That would be us, me and Newt," Alby said, "follow me, we'll get you settled."

. . .

After a brief tour of the large area the boys called the Glade, Alby and Newt explained that the walls opened and closed and that you weren't allowed to leave the Glade unless you were a Runner, or you'd be lost in the Maze. Simple enough instructions. You'd find your job tomorrow, and shadow the keeper of that job for your first couple days.

The boys sat you down in the dining area, "Okay, so, you had questions?"

"Yeah, nothing complicated like 'why are we here' and 'who put us here' and 'why can't I remember anything other than my name' because you most likely would've answered by now, right?"

"Right."

Your questions were simple: When were meal times, what kind of food was there to eat, were there breaks during the work hours or just during lunch, etc. Most of them had been answered during the tour. But you had one that couldn't help but poke at the back of your brain:

"You're all so obsessed with getting out of the Glade, and solving the Maze. Why not just... stay?"

The boys turned to look at each other, both wearing looks of question. Something in the way their faces contorted asked if they should tell you the answer. You were starting to wonder if you wanted to know anymore. When they turned back to look at you, you received your answer:

"It's hell here, Greenie," Alby said, a solemn expression painting his face. You looked to Newt, who just nodded in agreement before looking down at his hands. Alby continued, "It seems all nice and green and pretty here in the Glade where dumb shucks like Minho can joke and make merry, but..." he trailed off.

"It's just... not," Newt finished for him, "We'll tell you about that another time. Take you round to the deadheads, back there in the woods. For now, it's late. Frypan's setting up for dinner soon. Find Chuck, he'll get you settled in soon enough, help you make some nice friends and all that."

"okay," you responded. The boys looked at you strangely, as if you'd just asked what color the sky was.

"Alright, Greenie. Find Chuck." The two boys stood and walked off, leaving you in the dining area, alone.