Thomas Imagines (The Maze Runner)

Borrowed Time

The harsh wind of the Scorch beats against your face, your hands, your neck. The heat is almost overwhelming, the constant walking even more so, yet you keep moving on. Sure, the neverending travel is exhausting, but it's good for one thing: it distracts you from looking down and thinking about your arm, the one coincidentally wrapped in cloth so nobody can see it. If you stop moving for even a second, you'll think about it, and you'll think about the Crank bite on your forearm.

The bite itself happened so quickly you would almost think it never happened at all, were it not for the discolored, burning wound gaping open on your skin. You and the rest of the Gladers had taken a bad turn into Crank territory; in the escape, you'd gotten bitten. You don't think anyone else knows about it, and you intend to keep it that way until the very end.

After all, what could they do about it except watch you die? You saw what happened to Winston, how everyone treated him like a breakable shard of glass until the day he decided to shoot himself in the head and spare everyone the trouble. Sure, you don't want to become a Crank, but the thought of the Gladers, the boys who have become your family, looking at you with that same pitying fear in their eyes is almost unthinkable. So, you don't speak a word about it, and silently pray that the bite mark will heal and go away. It does not.

Up ahead of you, a boy glances back over his shoulder, smiling gently when he notes that you're still keeping pace behind him. Thomas has been one of the best things about this entire place- even when you wanted to give in and find a solution just like Winston's, he made you laugh and gave you reasons to stick around. You know you don't have much time left, but he makes you want to use every minute of it.

Thomas jerks his head towards a nearby rocky overhang. "It's getting late. That should be some good shelter for the night." Newt, Minho, and the others nod their assent. Although no one dares complain too often, you can sense their weariness written in every line of their faces. A break would be good for everyone, and it would give the Gladers a chance to rest while getting out of the way of the Cranks. You've all noticed that the rotting beings tend to roam the sandy dunes at night. Is it terrible to think that you might join their ranks soon?

Everyone gathers in a ragged circle farther into the depths of a rock formation, sharing the meager rations you've managed to pick up over the days. The food and water will run out soon, although with you gone, they won't have to feed as many mouths. That's it, think about the benefits. What matters most is their survival, and knowing that it might be easier in a few days is good. Don't think about anything else.

You watch as night falls around you, the shrieks of the Cranks becoming a dim echo ricocheting off of the nearby cliffs. As the moon takes a prominent place on the horizon, you stand up, wiping your hands off on your already grimy trousers. "I'll take first watch. You guys go ahead and get some sleep." The exhausted boys around you murmur their gratitude, crawling off to the most comfortable stones for the night's rest. You watch them go, then take up a position near the mouth of the rock formation.

You watch the Scorch below you, searching for errant Cranks or groups of thieves that could pose a threat to your haphazard group. Your eyes flicker over the sky, too, taking in the way the sky gradually darkens and then lightens again. Technically, your 'first watch' shift ended a couple of hours ago, but you don't mind. Strangely enough, as the days passed since you were first bitten, you haven't felt as tired, like you've dropped that need to sleep just like a burdensome pack. You're not sure whether or not you're happy for it or merely more afraid for the transformation that is sure to come.

After a while, you hear the quiet sounds of someone waking up, and then another figure joins you in staring over the desert sands. Your boyfriend, Thomas, stands beside you, arms folded. "You didn't wake us up for our watch shifts. How long have you been up?" You shrug. "It's fine, I don't mind it. I never sleep well here anyways." They need to sleep more than you do, but Thomas doesn't know that.