𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒, 𝐓𝐌𝐑

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨.

It goes quiet for a moment, but then another boy chuckles and speaks again. "Man, I'm hoping they sent up a radio. I've been asking for one for months and they never send one up."

With no more words said, Christopher flinches when the crease in the ceiling parts completely, causing the sun to fully shine through – leaving him on full display for them all to see. He wants to cower away and curl into a ball when he notices a large handful of boys looking down at him. Completely oblivious to him, he's the ninth boy to come up in the box since they've all arrived within the time span of nine long months.

This – the box coming up every month – is still somewhat freshly new to them all, some more than others. But one thing that they've learned over the months is the box comes up at the same time, the same day, every month; so for it to come up nearly a week early is abnormal.

"Hey, look, it's another bo–"

"Wow, really? I thought he was a cat." A young Korean boy cuts him off, rolling his eyes as he looks down into the lift to get a better look at him. "Guys, come check this out, it's a cat... and obviously not a boy." He sarcastically states, making the boy whom he cut off shake his head in frustration.

Christopher squints his eyes, but no matter how hard he tries to see above him, the sun continues to blind him. He's hit with a wave of confusion as they begin to bombard him with questions – all of which he doesn't have an answer for. The voices are odd, tinged with an echo; some of the words are completely foregin – others feel familiar. And then, as if the camera lenses sharpen its focus, the faces clear. They're boys, all of them – all roughly the same age. He didn't know what he was expecting, but the puzzled faces looking down at him was not it. They are just teenagers. Kids. In an instant some of his fear melts away, not enough to calm down his racing heart, but just enough to not fear for his life.

His eyes scan all the boys above him with overwhelming curiosity; steady on the two of them who step forward. The first boy who his eyes land on is one of the two blondes. His hair is bright blonde, and his hazel eyes are filled with gentleness. He's the tallest out of the seven boys, standing no more than four inches taller than the others. He looks down at him with a face full of concern, knowing exactly how he feels since he came up in the box only two months prior.

The boy beside him however, has short light brown hair, and blue eyes that are filled with a blank expression. He too is one of the taller ones in the group, just a few inches shorter than the blonde on his right.

The blue eyed boy steps back for a mere second, then returns back with something in his hands. He – along with the help from the two blondes – lowers a rope from above, the end tied into a big loop. Making the fast decision, the tall blonde jumps down into the box, kneels in front of him, and whispers a few encouraging words to him; trying his best to make him feel as comfortable as he can despite the circumstances. Christopher hesitates, then he steps into the rope with his right foot and clutches the rope as he gets yanked towards the sky.
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The moment his feet touch the grass, a storm of emotions wrench in his gut; twisting and churning. He doesn't know if he wants to scream, cry, or throw up; but none of the above happen. The voices instantly grow silent when someone who seems the oldest out of the bunch steps forward.

"Hey, kid." One says, despite looking only a year or few older than Christopher. The teenager, who's obviously the leader out of the bunch, continues. "Everything is fine, you're not in danger, we won't hurt you. My name is Alby," He motions to himself, then to his left where the second lanky blonde is shyly standing. "This is Newt, that's Nick and George." He signals to the two boys who are standing farthest from him. "That's Frypan," He nods to the other small dark skinned boy. "Gally is on your right, and Ben is on your left." Christopher turns to his left, just to be met with a large, sincere smile from the blonde boy who helped him out. Alby then motions his hand off to the side, next to Newt. "And he is Minh–"

Before Alby can finish his sentences the Korean boy cuts him off. "That's all I get? "And he is Minho" that's it?" He exclaims. Then, he turns to face Christopher. "I'll have you know that I am the most coolest, and fastest, and amazing person in this place... and I can beat anyone in a food eating contest." He proudly states, with a smirk on his face.

Christopher shyly nods. "Good to know." He mumbles quietly, his fear very slowly begins to slip away.

Nick steps forward, his attention only on Christopher. "Do you remember anything... about yourself? Maybe your name?"

His eyes continue to bounce from person to person. He harshly swallows the lump that's still lodged in his throat. He doesn't speak right away, instead he takes a second to try to think of something about himself. His mind comes up blank. He can't remember anything, not even what he looks like.

He shakes his head. "I don't know my name." He pauses, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, forcing his tears away. "I don't remember anything." His voice breaks as his eyes water.

At the sound of his voice, all but two, glance at each other. For some strange reason that they don't have an explanation for, his voice sounds oddly familiar to them. Almost as if they've heard it before.

"Don't stress it, it'll come to you."

Alby scoffs, shaking his head. "Yeah, it's the one thing we get to keep... goddamn, slintheads." He whispers to himself, not meaning for Christopher to hear him.

Ignoring the words he just barely heard Alby say, Christopher finally takes a moment to look around his surroundings – they all allow him to do so. He stands in a large grassy field that looks almost as large as the world from where he stands in the center of it all. Out of his peripheral vision he can see things being built throughout the land, like: a grassy area that appears to be where they're farming crops, and a somewhat of a large tower that he can only assume had an amazing view of the whole place. He glances back at the small handful of boys, surprised that they – at their young age – are able to create such great projects in such a small amount of time.

It is very obvious that things are still a work in progress, and most of it is hardly sturdy; but that didn't matter. Christopher's mind is more focused on the four large walls that enclose them inside, either keeping them in, or keeping something out.

He snaps his eyes away from the beautiful scenery when he feels someone gently touch his forehead with their finger tips. Noticing his fear, "Sorry... you have a deep gash on your forehead." The boy who he now knows as Ben quietly states. "It's bleeding pretty badly... I didn't want it to touch you eye."

Christopher hesitantly pushes Ben's hand away from his face. "I'm fine."

While his eyes are still on Ben, out of the corner of his eye he can see Alby lean close to Nick, and whisper things into his ear that only the two of them can hear; making sure to keep their comments to themselves so they don't scare the rest of the boys.

Christopher glances around his surroundings once more. The worries of how he came to be standing with these unknown yet so familiar boys fade away from his mind. The bad thoughts and many questions still linger in the back of his head, but all he can think about is how much they've accomplished and how much they're standing in front of him with open arms and kind words.

"Newbie," Alby turns to him once again. "We'll patch you right up, and get you alright, but for now...Welcome to the Glade." He opens his arms and vaguely signals to where they're standing, inside the tall walls.

"The Glade?" He repeats Alby, only his words come out as a question, instead a statement. He takes one more final glance at the grassy meadow they stand in, then once again turns his attention back to the boy ahead of him.

Alby hums in response. "This is your new home."