monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 34

Chapter 34
Something WCKD This Way Comes

The stolen helmet was heavy in her hands. Florence was curled up on the bench of a confessional, the door bolted shut and the pulsing orange candlelight bleeding through the crack. She’d had to pilfer through half a dozen boxes to find a uniform that fit her, but the material still felt wrong against her skin.

The bullet-proof vest was heavy against her chest, the grey material was thick and warm, and there was just slightly too much space in the fingers of her gloves. Only her boots were her own, the ankles stuffed with the extra fabric of her cuffs. A loaded taser shotgun lay at her feet. The guns at her hip and waist still remained, as did the knife tucked into the leather cuff under her sleeve.

Florence pinched the fingers of her gloves, sliding them off her hands. She tucked her braid into the black hood of her uniform and pulled it over her head, then slid on the mask. She took a deep breath, and the sound surrounded her. She took another, and another. The gaps between them shortened under they were little more than strangled puffs of air. 

With sweaty hands, Florence tugged the helmet off her head. It clattered to the wood floor and she fumbled with the lock, gasping for air as she tumbled from the confessional. Someone caught her by the elbows and she braced against them, breathing in and out to a steady beat. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me, Florence?” Jorge asked.

She shook her head, slowly looking up at him. In less than an hour, Jorge would be leaving the church for the long journey back to the Right Arm. He’d pick up the stolen Berg and return as their get-away driver, assuming the rest of their plan fell into place. The odds were not in their favor. “As much as I hate this thing,” Florence replied, scrutinizing her disguise, “they need me here.” She stared dejectedly at the WCKD logo embroidered on her sleeve like a brand.

Jorge sighed. “I’m not saying I’m surprised, but…” he trailed off, looking over his shoulder at the boys. “Don’t push yourself too hard. I know they need you, but you can’t help them if you’re dead.” It was a morbid goodbye, but there wasn’t room for any other kind. Florence collected the rest of her uniform from the confessional, turning in time to see Gally leading Teresa away by the arm. He’d been the most hostile to her by a landslide, and even Florence couldn’t tell how much of the animosity was an act.

“You were in love with her, weren’t you?” Feigning intrigue in checking the clip of her handgun, Florence peered across the room to the supply table. Thomas had stalled in adjusting his ammo belt at Brenda’s question, his mouth hanging half open.

“I don’t…” he tried to fake confusion, then sighed. “No. I never got that far.” If Florence hadn’t been paying such keen attention, she would have missed the fraction of a second when his eyes left Brenda and found Newt. “Other stuff got in the way.” Florence lowered her head, scrunching her features to prevent a smile.

“Either way, just be careful,” she heard Brenda caution. “You sort of have this problem where you can’t walk away from people. Even when you should.” Florence’s smile fell. Thomas wasn’t alone in this problem. Whenever Florence had to leave someone behind, she wasn’t walking as much as she was being dragged, kicking and screaming, blood on her hands and guilt gnawing at her heart. Despite everything she’d seen and everyone she’d lost, she hadn’t been able to shake this. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to.

“Florence.” She forcefully dragged herself from a downward spiral, taking her eyes off the gun clutched in her hand. Frypan stood in front of her, brows pinched in concern. Florence forced a smile, clipping the handgun against her hip and wiping her sweaty hands on her pants. “Brenda and I are heading out, I just wanted to say goodbye.” The pair of them were in charge of the escape plan once Minho and the kids were in their possession.