monachopsis - maze runner

prologue

Prologue
Day One

The boy's cries for help were what woke her. She lurched upright, hands slamming onto the metal walls of the corner she'd been slouched in. The first thing she felt was the rapid beating of her heart, followed by the incredible urge to vomit. Her eyes darted wildly around the space, taking advantage of the fact that the other person in the enclosure had yet to notice that she was awake.

They were in some kind of metal box, one that was rapidly rising. Whatever mechanism was lifting it made an awful grinding noise as it traveled up the tunnel. From what she could make out in the flashes of red light sporadically illuminating the darkness, a few crates and barrels were in the space with them. She squinted at the one closest to her, and the next burst of red revealed the letters WCKD. She turned the word over in her mind a few times, even mouthed it to herself. Wicked. Wicked. Wicked. But she came up with nothing.

Now, this wasn't 'nothing' in the sense that she couldn't remember what the letters stood for. It was 'nothing' in the sense that, for the life of her, the girl could not remember anything significant at all. Not who she was, not how old she was, not what she looked like. She had no idea who the screaming boy was, why they were in a rising box, or where the box was rising to. She couldn't even remember her own name.

"W- who are you?" The girl tore her gaze from the letters on the crate and saw the boy with his back pressed against the corner opposite her. The red light was more consistent now, and she could see the blatant fear on his face. She was certain her expression matched his. The boy had close-cropped hair, dark skin, and a death grip on the cross-hatched metal walls. "Who are you?" the boy asked again, his rising panic manifesting in a voice crack. "Where am I?"

But the girl didn't have time to answer, not that she knew any more than he did. The box screeched to a halt, the sudden change in speed sending both kids sprawling on their hands and knees. The sound of scraping metal was replaced by a blaring alarm. Once the girl caught her breath and sat back on her heels, she pressed her hands against her ears. The boy across from her did the same, and their eyes met as a loud click sounded above them.

The kids turned their heads to the top of their cage, watching as two large stone doors retracted above the hatched ceiling. The alarm ceased, light flooded in, and both pairs of hands went from their ears to their eyes to block the glare.

"What just happened?" the girl asked, her voice scratchy and with a fearful quiver she instantly despised. The boy beside her just shook his head, rising to his feet and placing both hands on the grate above them. The girl followed his lead, eyeing the slot going across the center. "We should open it." It was the most unsure she could've possibly sounded, but neither of them could think of a better option. They each picked a side and pushed hard enough for the doors to swing upwards, both wincing when the metal doors crashed into the sides of the chute.

The boy hesitantly moved forward, stepping on one of the crates so his head rose above the rim of the box. His jaw actually dropped, and one hand released the side to beckon the girl over. He shuffled over on the box so she could join him, though she had to stand on her toes to peek over the edge.

"Oh my..."

"Uh-huh."

It was a field. A giant, impeccably green field spreading out in every direction. One section had a wide stretch of towering trees, their leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze. The sight would have been serene, almost beautiful, had the children not been focused on something else entirely.

On all four sides, tall enough to block out the sun if the kids had been standing directly beneath, were giant stone walls. Thick green ivy crept up the stone in large patches, and at the center of three of the walls was a large slot; they were doors. In the fourth wall, the slot was open.

This time the girl took initiative, using the crates as stairs and climbing out of the box to get a better look. She took a few shaky steps away from the edge, wide eyes sweeping around the intimidating landscape. It only took a few seconds for the boy to appear at her side, and when she sensed his presence she forced herself to look away from the walls. As it was clear neither of them knew where they were or why they were there, she decided to ask the question that had been troubling her the most since she woke up.

"Can you remember anything?" The shake of the boy's head, though almost imperceptible, was immediate. The girl looked back at the walls, nausea boiling in her stomach again. "Why is this happening?" she asked, though she didn't expect an answer. Tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut to hide it. The boy beside her looked away, pretending not to notice, and shoved his shaking hands into the pockets of his pants. His right hand found something, and he pulled it out so quickly it turned the pocket inside-out. It was a small slip of paper, neatly folded four times into a square.

"Hey." The boy tapped the girl's arm with his free hand, holding up the paper when she turned to look at him. "Check your pocket." Intrigued, the girl slipped her hands into the pockets of the brown cargo pants she couldn't remember buying. She made the same discovery the boy did, but she didn't waste time in unfolding it. The boy hurriedly copied her, and after reading their individual notes they leaned closer to examine each other's.

Each paper had three lines of text. On the bottom right corners printed in blue were the same letters stamped on the items in the box: WCKD. The top left of both slips had one word, though it was different for each of them. The girl's read Florence, the boy's read Alby. These words, as the girl quietly pointed out, must have been their names. They had no memories to refute that, and when they muttered the names to themselves it felt natural enough.

But what each child found the most disturbing was the sprawling script across the center of their notes. It was the same for each of them, two simple words that were meant to be encouraging but in their situation could only be described as ominous.

Good luck.