They reached the weapons room in minimal time. Trace had taken the gross, blood-stained cloth from Newt and was pressing it to her own head now, but it did nothing to stop the fresh flow of blood that came as she started running.
"Bloody hell, Ace. Here." Newt frowned, ripping a shred of his own shirt to press to her head as they ran.
"Thanks," she muttered, holding it tightly to the lump on her head, wincing as another stab of pain shot through her.
Still, better her being hurt than the precious Newt.
At the back corner of the weapons room was a storage closet, hidden by the shelves in front of it. Minho shoved these aside and unlocked the door with his set of keys, revealing eight chests, stacked on top of each other, all containing their way out of here.
Thomas started babbling away about patterns. About possibilities. About combinations of maps that might help them.
"You've always assigned one runner to each section, right?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as his gaze darted between Newt and Minho. Trace was keen to skip the interlude and get on to the code as soon as possible. Time was precious right now.
"Wax paper," she said. Three attractive faces- and Teresa's- turned to look at her.
"Wax paper?" Minho asked. Thomas was grinning eagerly in the background.
"Wax paper. Thomas, explain. I'll be back." She left the room without any further explanation, heading straight for Frypan's kitchen. She'd probably have to bribe the boy into giving her enough paper to complete the code, but she knew she'd get it off him eventually.
"Hey, Fry," she grinned cheerily.
"Hey, Tr- what the hell is up with your head?" Frypan had turned around to look at Trace and apparently been taken quite off-guard by her new, bright red, accessory.
"Your boyfriend, Gally, thought we should have a game of baseball. Unfortunately he suggested we play with a plank of wood and my head, instead of using traditional methods."
Frypan winced. "Doesn't sound like a great time to me," he grimaced.
"Oh it was. You should've been there. We might even play again tonight if the Grievers can get a team together in time. Anyway, I need wax paper."
"Wax paper?"
"Yes. And a lot of it. Preferably right now."
"I can't just give you my wax paper, Trace. It's one of the main things I request from the Creators. It's a limited supply."
"Okay but I need it more than you do. Trust me. Trust me like you trust your true love, Gally."
She was going to argue more, but she'd seen something change in Frypan's eyes when she mentioned Gally. Something very, very interesting. Something a fangirl is trained to grasp.
"Wait a second...do you... are you and Gal... are you serious? Is he actually your boyfriend?" she pondered this for a second. "Is Gaypan real?"
"Slim it, Trace. Please."
Trace laughed. "Oh, I will. I will slim it. I will slim it indeed." She smiled, "but it's going to cost you."
Frypan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine, just take the paper. Take all you need. Just don't tell anyone about me and Gally."
"Gaypan."
"Whatever. Promise?"
She smiled again. "I promise, Fry. I won't tell anyone. Thanks for the paper."
YOU ARE READING
Subject A250: The Fangirl (COMPLETED)
Fanfiction--Book one in the Subject A250 series-- She's read the books. She's seen the movies. She knows all there is to know about the storyline. Except for her role in it.
