𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓-𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙨

VIII-SAFE FROME WICKED

-AESARA [ee-zura]
We were pulled out of the helicopter as soon as it landed, tripping on sand towards a building with blinding light. There was screaming behind us, partially from both the men and the monsters they protected us from. But we made it to the building, the doors closing just as Thomas made it through them.

On the inside, there were a lot of metal bars. People melded them together, sawed them apart. Sparks flying from everywhere. Where the hell are we?

Some men took us to a room that held more food than I could remember seeing, and it wasn't much. We attacked it happily. After we were done and full, we lounged on the furniture around the room. I sat next to Thomas, Teresa next to Newt, but I saw the way she looked at the boy beside me.

"That was better than frypans slop." We laughed at Minho's comment, even though we knew it wasn't true.

When the laughter died down, Newt spoke up from across the room. "What do you guys think is gonna happen to the boys that stayed behind?"

They were quiet, either thinking or not wanting to answer. Teresa was the only one who spoke. "They won't survive. The box wasn't gonna come up anymore, and who knows about the Grievers." I stared at her. Did Thomas tell her about the box? That wasn't actually a definite thing that was going to happen. But if that hypothesis was correct, then the boys stood no chance.

"All I know is," Frypan slapped his hands on his stomach. "Even if we know nothing about these people, they sure do make some tasty food."

The door opening cut off any conversation that we wanted to have after. And in the doorway stood three men. Two guards and one that looked like he might be a higher up worker here.

He looked tall, definitely taller than me, black hair that was greying on the side. He wore a dark long jacket over a white shirt and dark pants. He introduced himself as Janson and explained to us where we were as he led us back through the warehouse, dodging the sparks and listening to Jansen.

"A home between homes." Of course there was no way that we were going home, thanks to the sun exploding. But this would be a temporary thing until they can find a place for us to go.

Janson led us through the building, past the metal welders, and to a door that looked to only open with a keycard.

"Let's do something about that smell."

We were led down a hall to two doors at the end. One said boys and had a regular stick figure. The other said girls and had a stick figure with a dress on.

"Alright. Girls on the left, boys on the right. There are clothes waiting for you already, so just choose what you like. I'll just be waiting out here for you."

I noticed as we went into the restrooms that Jansen had been giving me a longer look, one that was different than the ones he gave the others. His gaze even lingered on Teresa. What was the reason for that? It sent a chill down my spine and made me uncomfortable.

I brushed it off as being paranoid and took a look at the bathroom. It wasn't as bright as the outside hallway and the showers were lined in the middle of the room. There were five stalls back to back and no shower curtain. Which I was fine with considering it was just Teresa and I in here.

There were benches about six feet in front of the sinks that had mirrors hanging above it. On the benches were piles of clothes, separated by shirts, pants, underwear, socks, and shoes. I picked the ones that would fit the best and a pair of brown boots that went a little above the ankle. It had some straps on the side that went over the laces. Seemed practical.

Next to the piles of clothes was another pile, this time it was towels and brushes. I grabbed one of each and set it aside with my clothes, only taking my towel to the shower.

There was a small towel rack, so I hung the cloth there and turned to the shower head. There was a small handle below the shower head, clearly marking which way was cold and hot. Easy enough. I stripped down and threw my clothes outside the shower stall, making a small pile.

I turned the water on and was instantly sprayed with cold water. I shrieked and moved out of the way, moving the handle closer to hot.

"Are you okay?" Teresa asked from the stall next to mine.

"Yeah." I shivered, holding my arms around my body. It took a while for the water to heat up and when it did, I moved back into the water stream. And dear Grievers did it feel good. Instantly all of the dust, grime, and blood washed off of me.

Looking down at my feet where the dirty water swirls down the drain, I think of the people that got us, me, here at this moment. I didn't know most of them, but that didn't make them insignificant. But I mostly thought of Chuck.

A child barely thirteen to fourteen years old. Probably barely experienced the world before he was sent up. The youngest of all of us. All he wanted was friends, someone to talk to and hang with. And when he did finally get that, it was... ripped from him. By a single piece of metal.

My eyes stung as I held onto a single thought. It should have been me. Gally was pointing the gun at me. He was going to shoot me. But Chuck...Sweet Chuck took it for me. I would have gladly taken the bullet if only to save Chuck's life. I would do anything to save Chuck's life.