monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 11

Chapter 11
Take a Gamble

The steam from Florence's coffee curled around her chin, adding to the stifling heat permeating the Med Hut. She sat on the ground behind Alby's head, back against the wall and legs tucked beneath her. Her eyes were unfocused as she stared ahead, not registering the new bodies in the room until someone kicked her foot. She glanced up to see Newt, who gave her a tight-lipped grimace before helping her to her feet. Thomas and the girl had entered the hut, the former clutching something in his hands.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" she rushed out when she saw the urgent look on Thomas' face. The mysterious girl hovered behind his shoulder, silent.

"Yeah, yeah everything's fine," Thomas quickly assured her. "Just, uh...here, look at this." Unable to form an explanation, he presented the objects he'd been holding. Florence set down her mug and took them, rounding the bed so Newt and the Med-Jacks could see as well. They were cylindrical metal vials with small slivers of glass, behind which swirled a blue liquid. Florence lifted one to her face, watching the liquid swish back and forth as she turned it. The vial was like nothing she'd ever seen before, but her guard was up after seeing the letters WCKD stamped on the side.

"Where'd you find these?" Newt questioned, taking one of the vials from Florence. He examined it with suspicion, tapping the bit of glass like the substance inside was a living creature.

"It was in Teresa's pocket when she came up," Thomas replied. Florence drew her eyes away from the vial to peer at the girl. Teresa. The name entered her mind with the faint familiarity all the Gladers' names had, a tiny flicker that was gone as soon as it arrived. "She must have been sent up for a reason, so we thought maybe whatever's in those vials can help Alby." A worthy theory, Florence decided, if not a risky one. Newt seemed to have the same apprehension.

"We don't even know what this stuff is. We don't know who sent it, or why it came up here with you." There was a hint of animosity behind the way he addressed Teresa. Florence saw the girl look down, and felt a twinge of guilt for her. It wasn't Teresa's fault she'd been thrown into all this.

"I mean, we do know who sent it," Florence cut in, trying to avert the blame from Teresa. "It says it right on here - WCKD. The same people who put Alby in this position in the first place." She looked down at the cot, where Alby was still quietly sobbing. The veins had gotten worse, and the injection site had darkened in color. "For all we know, this could kill him."

"He's already dying, look at him." Thomas gestured to the infected boy, as if he hadn't been the group's main focus already. Florence sank down on the bench beside Alby, watching as his muscles strained against the bonds tying him down. His head was angled back, showing the black veins creeping around his neck like a noose. "How could this possibly make it any worse?"

There was a beat of painful silence, sucking the energy from the room. Florence's chin rose, as if to challenge him. "You should think of another way to phrase that." There was a chilling calm to her voice, and any apology Thomas could have sputtered out got lodged in his throat.

Newt intervened, stepping in front of Thomas to act as a physical barrier between them. "Florence." Her eyes flicked to his, brimming with a storm of conflicting emotions. A hand had extended from her side, hovering by Alby as if to shield him. "He's got a point," he whispered; the entire room heard it, but he was speaking only to her.

The crash of the closing doors just a few nights back had signified a new age in the Glade, with Florence as the sole unwilling figurehead. And whether she realized it or not, she was being guided like a marionette puppet by the beliefs of her friends, and of Thomas.