monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 21

Chapter 21
History’s Most Poorly-Planned Jailbreak

The sound of limbs striking metal reverberated through the vents as the children scrambled back to their room. Florence could feel the beginnings of bruises speckling her arms and legs, but unlike the trip to the lab, she didn’t take breaks. They didn’t have the luxury of time anymore.

Thomas punched the grate open, sliding out and spinning around to pull Florence to her feet. She stood rigid at the center of the room, mind reeling as she tried to scrap together a plan. Minho and Newt converged on her, trying to understand what was wrong, but the most they managed to get was a whispered refrain of “We are so screwed.” 

Aris proved to be just as unhelpful and Thomas was already scurrying around in a panic shouting “We gotta go, we gotta go right now!” 

The room quickly dissolved into chaos.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean we gotta go?” 

Thomas ripped the bedding from one of the lower bunks, swiping Florence from the circle of Gladers as he passed. “Tie the door,” he ordered, shoving the bundle of sheets into her hands. She nodded, her initial paralysis fading in favor of adrenaline, and secured the door handle to the pipes on the wall.

“She’s still alive,” she heard Aris mumble behind her.

“Who’s she?” Frypan cried. “Teresa?”

“No, Ava.”

“Who?”

“Ava Paige,” Florence shouted over the noise as she turned. 

“The doctor?”

“But she-”

“Shot herself in the head? Yeah, apparently not,” Florence squeezed through Minho and Newt, who were still desperately trying to calm her down. She helped Thomas lift the mattress he’d torn loose, and they shoved it against the door as a barricade.

“Would you just calm down and explain-”

“It’s WCKD!” Thomas shouted, whirling around. “It’s still WCKD, it’s always been WCKD.” Florence slumped against the mattress, feeling like her heart was about to rip through her chest. Each breath wavered, and she clutched the artificial leather of the mattress cover in a sweaty fist.

“Flo,” Newt began quietly, resting a hand on her arm. “What did you see?” Florence opened her mouth to explain, but Thomas brought a finger to his lips and mouthed ‘listen.’ Half a dozen pairs of boots were stomping up the hallway.

“We’ll explain when we’re out of here, but we need to leave now.”

***

The safety in numbers theory was clearly bullshit, because the journey through the vents felt significantly more perilous in a group. It took an extra few seconds of panicked whispering to stop the line of movement, which they had to do whenever they heard the slightest noise below them. After the number of times she had to hold her breath crawling over vent covers, Florence decided she'd be an excellent underwater swimmer.

The final stretch of the poorly-planned jailbreak led them through a collection of much larger air ducts, high enough for them to walk. Clutching at hands and the backs of shirts, they tiptoed towards the end of the duct and waited for Thomas to swing it open. He did a quick scan of the hallway and ushered them out, keeping watch while Florence did a headcount.