monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 32

Chapter 32
Crash Test

When Florence volunteered to enter the city, Gally nearly had an aneurysm. He sputtered a retort and finished pulling the collar of his hoodie over his head, grabbing her by the arm. She raised an eyebrow and he released her, allowing her to finish unclipping her backpack and passing it to Brenda.

“What, you don’t wanna spend time with me?” she tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“It’s not that, just…” he sighed and crouched down to remove the metal grate that covered their entrance, a tunnel dug straight into the sewer system. She could see the tension in his shoulders. “There’s a couple things along the way I think you won’t like, is all. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“She’s changed a bit in six months, Gally,” Thomas sniped; evidently, he’d been eavesdropping. “She can handle herself.” If this was a jab at Gally’s overprotectiveness, it was the pot calling the kettle black.

“Thanks for defending my honor,” Florence smiled sarcastically. “But really, Gally. I’ll be fine.” He nodded curtly and stood to collect the ladder propped against the wall. Florence could feel Lawrence’s presence looming and stepped into the shadows to collect herself. Brenda joined her.

“You sure you’re okay to go?” she asked, swinging Florence’s bag over her shoulder. Florence hummed in consolation, her hands nimbly running through her routine weapon checks, though she was hardly looking at them. She was watching Gally lower the ladder into the tunnel and settle himself on the edge, waiting. “I don’t mean are you physically capable of going. I mean are you gonna be okay around Gally? Seeing him again shook you up, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Florence smiled gently. “It’s just…weird talking to someone I’ve already mourned. You know?” 

“No. I don’t know,” Brenda whispered, turning her back so no one in the group could read her lips. “Because no one in the history of forever has had to talk to a dead-but-actually-not-dead friend before. Listen, I’m sure Frypan would be happy to go for you if you need time to think things through. If not, I’ll do it. I don’t want you to be distracted because you keep checking that he’s actually alive. Just consider it.” Florence bit her lip, watching Gally bid Frypan goodbye and begin to descend the ladder.

“I appreciate it, Bren, really. But I think I’d go insane walking in circles up here while the boys were gone. Besides,” she nodded to Thomas, who eyed the tunnel with contempt before hopping down after Gally, “Newt might need help if Thomas decides to go for Gally’s throat again.” 

Brenda squeezed Florence’s shoulder and went to stand beside Jorge. Florence turned to see if Newt was ready and frowned. He was staring intently at his right hand, which shook with a tremor up to his elbow. “Newt?” His head snapped up, startled. “You ready?” He quickly nodded, shaking the sleeve of his jacket down over his arm. 

Worry creased her brow but he forced a tight smile and gestured to the manhole. “Ladies first.” She began her descent. Gally greeted her with a grim nod at the bottom of the ladder, tossing a flashlight from one hand to the other. Immediately, Florence’s nose wrinkled. She tucked her face in the collar of her jacket, which did little to dampen the acidic smell of garbage that lingered in the few inches of dirty water on the ground.

Frypan removed the ladder once they were all down and the manhole cover was replaced, plunging them into darkness. Gally led them around a bend by the blue glow of his flashlight until they came across a lever. He forced it up and electricity hummed down the tunnel. A string of dim light bulbs was pinned to the wall, presumably put there by Lawrence’s crew.