World Gone Mad (TMR fic 3)

Chapter 3

The hold is mostly empty. It seems to be more of an entrance and exit than a supply area, although there are some barrels and crates lashed to the walls. We can't get inside them, and there doesn't seem to be anything around that we can use as weapons.

I take Newt's hand as we walk back up the metal stairs into the room we slept in. It has a few couches, one of which Minho is still draped over, snoring heavily. We pick our way through the Gladers sleeping there and end up in a small hallway. How big is this ship?

Three bunk areas branch off from the hallway, two bunkbeds in each. There's also a bathroom with a small shower. Clearly the Berg is made for long-term journeys as well as short flights. I dream for a split second about putting a match in the fuel reserves, but quickly stifle the impulse.

Gladers are crashed in the bunk rooms, and I see Thomas in one of the beds. The other three beds in that room have girls from Group B, and I take a step towards the door to check on Thomas. I don't trust him with strangers.

"Wait right there," someone says, a growl tinting her voice. It's Brenda, standing at the end of the hallway with a strange, large gun pointed towards me. Newt pushes between us, shielding me.

"What are you doin'?" he snaps at her.

"You're not allowed in that room," she answers simply. "That's the quarantine area. Those four had more Flare symptoms than the rest of you and are being monitored. If they're up by the time we arrive they'll go to the same medical check as you and we'll see what they need. If they're still unconscious, though, they'll go straight to the medbay for specialized care."

Newt scoffs at her. "You sure know a lot. A Crank, huh? More like a spy for WICKED." I'm certain he's right, and I'm even more desperate to explore. We don't have the whole picture here.

Brenda doesn't bat an eye. "They wanted someone to make sure you survived the city." So it is true. Then her lips quirk up into a smile. "They should have left someone to make sure the city survived you."

"Why did you take our weapons?" I blurt.

"Did you think we were going to leave you armed? We're on your side now, Ash, but we're not stupid enough to do that."

I hate how she's saying "we." All along she was a pawn.

"Can we agree to get along?" Brenda asks, and Newt glances at me. The gun is still pointing at him. It seems to have some sort of glowing projectiles contained in the clear clip. I don't want to know what it does.

I hate everything about my life as I nod.

Brenda lowers the gun, and nods behind her. "Do you want to keep looking around? Jorge is flying right now while the other pilot sleeps, and we've got two other WICKED officials onboard. Oh, and don't try an uprising, we have plenty of launchers." She motions at the gun she's holding. "They won't kill you, but they sure hurt."

She's telling the truth. I feel my fury slipping away. I don't have a reason to attack them right now. They haven't hurt us, and they have advantages we don't. Even if we all fought...

My shoulders slump, and I silently turn away from Brenda. I don't need to keep looking. I'm going to go rest. I might as well try to regain my strength before they do betray us.

Newt follows me, slipping an arm around my shoulders in a comforting manner. We're silent as we settle down, Newt falling asleep almost immediately. I run my fingers through his long hair, thinking.

I can't get three images out of my mind. One is from the Glade, in our last desperate fight against the Grievers. Just before they powered down, an unarmed Newt had thrown himself into the Griever about to kill me, pushing it off the Cliff and almost falling. In the Scorch, he'd taken an arrow in the shoulder to push me out of the way. Just now he had been protecting me from Brenda's launcher.

I'd put him in danger. Sure, it was his choice, but that didn't change the fact that I was his motivation. WICKED has their claws wrapped around Newt and they know it.

Anything they want they can get from him, just because they have me.

Oh, sure, they might honor their agreement and let us go, but I doubt it. I've never really believed it, although I pretend I do so that I have the strength to keep going.

WICKED is going to use us, use this connection between me and Newt, use my friendships and the emotions I finally allowed myself to have. There's only one way out – well, only one way that Newt would accept. We need to escape.

The thought both intimidates and invigorates me. It took the Gladers so long to get out of the Maze, and that was made to be solved. How can we outsmart WICKED entirely?

And yet... Thomas was right. We're getting angrier and angrier with every betrayal, and soon they'll have created a monster they can't stop. It's a race. Will WICKED break us first, or will we hit a level of desperation that allows us to break free?

I'm desperate. I'm desperate because I can't afford to let them put a gun to Newt's head and control me. I cannot allow that to happen.

I'm scared of what that choice might bring. I'm scared I'm the sort of monster who would let him die.

My desperation is a strength that WICKED cannot fight. I hope. If I can't get out now, then I never will be able to. I escape or I die, because I am Ash and I will not be controlled.

But for now, I will lie in wait for an opportunity.