╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
Get the shucking Med-jacks!
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
"Let's go!" Ben's voice is shrill, running in a shiver through my entire body. The noises are distant, bright colours flashing sporadically around me, obscuring my view of the Griever. If it weren't for Ben gripping my hand and pulling me with him, I think I may have collapsed in a heap, subjecting myself to the Griever and its beckoning claws. My pulse quickens as Ben and I dash through the Maze, our sweaty hands grasping together in an attempt to stay near each other. I'm a confused wreck, my body shuddering as I run faster and faster, the Griever not far behind us. I don't dare look back.
I don't want to know how close that monster is.
"Hurry up!" Ben shrieks, his voice trembling as he pulls me further, heaving me along with him as the clattering of the Griever gets dangerously close, marking the end of our lives with each click of metal. One foot in front of the other, Thea.
A white light flashes in front of my face, and I falter, but Ben pulls me back up with a groan and we dash round the corner, the sound of our weighted breaths echoing in our ears. My mind spins. A needle. They injected me. They were experimenting on me.
My blood runs cold.
"Slinthead, keep going!" Ben growls to me, stumbling as we round yet another corner, the Griever so close I can almost feel the gunk spraying from its throat. "Focus!"
"I'm trying!" I protest weakly, barely able to speak through the heaviness and fatigue in my chest. A terrified scream rips out of my throat as Ben is torn from my grasp, helplessly struggling underneath the Griever, covering his face in an attempt to save himself.
My hands fly to my belt underneath my shirt, where a dagger is waiting eagerly for my use. Adrenaline courses through my veins like a drug, my terror banished as I lunge at the Griever, and in one swift motion use its filthy legs to push myself up onto its back, swaying on top of it as I find my centre of balance. I plunge the dagger into its back, and it lets out a horrified screech, its call piercing through my head, so shrill and astounding that it throws me from it's back, and I crash against the coarse stone, my head smashing against it before I crumple to the floor.
Pain blinds me, erupting through my head before I fall against the ground with a thud. A ringing sound explodes in my eardrums. My vision blurring as I reach out for Ben who's sprawled across the floor, the Maze spins dangerously fast around me. I can barely see the Griever back away from me, its legs shaking from the blow I caused in it's back. I let out my breath as it's timid figure disappears around the corner, shrieking in pain as it moves. I didn't kill it.
Damn.
"Ben," I say as harshly as I'm able to.
"Here," he murmurs, his voice laced with pain.
Mustering all of the strength I could possibly summon, I drag myself over to him, and my eyes fall upon his lower abdomen...
"Shit," I curse. A deep gash lies in his stomach, the veins around it blackening and the skin bloodied and torn. I sway slightly as I grip him by the shoulders and hoist us to our feet, ignoring Ben's groans of protest. "Ben, keep talking to me, okay?" I say, gagging on the bile rising in my throat.
Ben doesn't talk for a couple of minutes while he gains his strength, and manages to walk for a while before his body gives in, and all of his weight is supported by me again. Its the most taxing thing I've ever had to do, but since being a Runner I've gained a lot more strength than I started off with. My muscles are small yet defined and their screeching under the pressure put upon them but I ignore them to the best of my ability. I can rest when Ben's back in the Glade.
"You're so stupid," he murmurs, shaking with sobs. "Ya should have kept running."
My voice is distant, devoid of any humour usually present as I haul him beside me, only just supporting both our weights. "And leave your sorry shuck-face arse behind? Not a chance."
"At least I'll get all the attention," he says weakly as he attempts to walk straight, but to no avail. He slumps back onto me, and I swing his arm round my shoulder as we trudge back to the Glade, both shaking after the encounter.
"Trust you to have almost died and only think about the attention."
Every single muscle in my body is pleading for me to sit down, to rest for a moment and I would, had I not had Ben's life on my hands. I can't risk not making it back. With a relieved sigh, I check my digital clock, and my breath shudders as I breathe out heavily in solace. We could make it back with time to spare. We were not going to die.
We don't hide our pain from each other as we limp back to the Glade, and complain whenever we need to, however not taking a break as we do so. Even though Ben's begging me for a rest, I know I can't let us do that — I fear if we sit down we won't have the willpower to get back up again. And I'll be damned if I die out here.
❀
Hours later, we're rounding the corner, and no-one's waiting for us there. Good. That means we're early. Ben's almost unconscious, and I'm making him count to one thousand to make sure he's concentrating on something. I think I'd go mad if he were silent. "Three hundred and four. Three hundred and five."
My breaths become more relieved each step I get closer to the Glade... each step harder than the next. "Hey, shuck-faces! Get me the shucking Med-jacks!" I bellow as I stumble into the Glade, and a few Glader's heads perk up, some sprinting towards Homestead to fetch Clint and Jeff, and some running up to us with stricken faces. Zart's among the first to reach us.
"What happened?" Zart asks, studying Ben with a ghostly expression.
"What does it look like, slinthead?" I snap. "Ben got stung."
"Three hundred and five. Three hundred and six," Ben murmurs.
Winston gasps, observing Ben with horror as Zart throws Ben's other arm around him. Blood is still trickling freely from my head, though slower than before. It feels cool against my skin. "Ben got what?"
"What'd I tell ya?" I grumble.
"Holy shuck. Where are those two when ya need 'em?" Newt calls as he rushes over to my side, prying Ben's arms from around me and taking my place holding Ben upright, studying me worriedly for injury. He pales at the sight of the blood on my temple and places a hand on my shoulder, dipping his gaze to meet mine. "Did it get ya?"
"No."
Clint and Jeff rush up to the group of Gladers now crowded around as, and they speak as gently as they can as Alby barks orders at the other Gladers — mostly to get lost. "Thea, we'll need ya to help. And we can fix ya up real good in the meantime."
"Good that," I say as the Med-jacks carry Ben away. As soon as Ben's not relying on Newt anymore, Newt flies to my side, his eyes raking me over for any further signs of injury. His face contorts into a frown as he reaches out to examine my head, but then drops his hand. Instead, he wraps an arm around me as we walk in silence over to Homestead, and I allow myself to lean into him.
"Ya gonna be okay," he murmurs as we enter Homestead, seemingly more to convince himself than me. His arms tighten around me as we ascend the staircase.
"I know that, slinthead," I snap, making him scoff at me.
I want to run out as soon as I enter the room where the Med-jacks are treating Ben. He's silent at the moment, unmoving, though his chest is shakily falling and rising in an unnatural pattern as he stares at the ceiling. Newt closes the door behind us, and immediately makes me sit down on a stool while he talks in hushed tones with Jeff.
"Could ya sort out her head while we... yanno?" Jeff says to Newt, nodding his head at the bathroom.
Newt nods firmly. "Already doin' it."
He disappears in the bathroom for a minute, and this is when what happened sinks in fully.
Vision. Memory. Griever. Head. Sting. Help.
I repeat these words in my head like some sort of sickening affirmation. It grounds me. It's the only thing stopping me from being utterly jacked in the head. Newt returns with a damp cloth in his hand, looking at me with such sincerity that I'd let myself curl up in his arms if we were alone.
"I can do it," I say before Newt can even attempt to help me.
Newt smiles slightly before handing me the cloth. "I know."
❀
The sun's set on the Glade, the oranges and pinks fading into nothingness as Clint, Jeff and I tend to Ben. It's not too bad yet, and he's not going through the Changing yet. I'm not sure whether thats a good or bad thing. Ben's asleep at the moment, and Clint and Jeff told me I was free to leave for the day — I didn't even map the Maze, not that I could remember anything anyway.
As soon as I open the door and step out into the dimly lit hallway, Newt pushes himself off the wall opposite to me and tilts his head, not doubt trying to gage what kind of mood I'm in. When he sees my frown, he completely lets his walls fall as we walk down the stairs. "It's okay, y'know. Dumb shank'll be just fine. Don't you worry about it."
"I know it will," I say, my voice sounding distant in my own ears. "It's just weird to see him like that."
Newt sighs, dragging his hand down his face and admitting, "It's weird for me too, Greenie. But you know Ben, aside from you, he's the most stubborn shank I've ever met. He'll survive."
"Gladers really need to make better insults, Frog-face," I say, desperately trying to lighten the mood. I don't want to talk about Ben.
"Wasn't me who bloody invented 'em," he says before turning towards me. "Are ya sure you're okay?"
"Well, it didn't get me."
"You didn't answer the question, Thea," he says softly.
"No," I say blankly. Unthinking, I slide my arms around his middle and he wraps his arms around me without hesitation, resting his lips by my temple. I immediately feel the safest I ever have in his arms; it's as though he was my shield. My arms only tighten around him even more, and as he draws small comforting circles onto my back lightly, I relax into him.
"I had another vision while I was there," I mumble into his chest.
"What?"
"It was the same thing I'd seen a couple days ago."
"The one Alby told me about?"
"Yeah," I say, burying my face even further into his chest, as if that could solve everything, as if I could hide from the world. "Except I could hear someone's voice. A woman. She called me Subject A11."
"Bloody knew it," he curses, pulling away and staring down at me gravely. "Shuck it. We are bein' tested on."
I shake my head at him, and he raises his brow inquisitively. "That's not what's bugging me. The same woman was having an argument with two guys. Something didn't go to plan. She said something about not being immune, whatever the shuck that means."
"I don't like this. I don't bleedin' like this one bit."
"Neither do I," I say, falling quiet as we trudge over to the Hammocks.
I finally realise what's happening to me... I finally know why I'm having these visions. They're memories. And as for the blood I used to see, it must have been W.C.K.D doing something to me. Either that, or my brain was just fighting whatever they injected into me to make me forget. Everything slots into place perfectly, almost as seamlessly as a puzzle. I'm starting to remember. Maybe I could remember something, anything that could help free us from the Maze. I can't do much more than hope.
"Ya need somethin' to eat," Newt says suddenly as we amble through the trees.
"Not hungry," I say dryly. I think if I did eat I might be sick.
Newt just looks at me sternly and presses his lips into a thin line. "Alright. But you're eatin' first thing in the morn."
I nod meekly at him and climb into my hammock, my eyes closing almost immediately. I know I'll have to tell Alby soon about the memory, and I think I'll do so tomorrow, I'm not in the mood to do anything but sleep — the one place I'm not haunted by my memories. I don't hear any footsteps leave, and I begin to wonder what Newts doing, until I feel him brush my hair gently behind my ear, fireworks exploding across my skin at his touch. His knuckles linger for a moment on my cheek as my breaths even out.
I smirk as I whisper, "You're such a sap, Frog-face."
"Shuck you," he says before walking away from me, leaves crunching under his shoes. I smile; I can almost hear the scowl on his face.
As I drift off, the woman's voice floats through my head like smoke swirling in the air...
Subject A11: The Chance.
—
Hey guys! I'm trying writing off my laptop for the first time — it's really weird to say the least but I sorta like it.
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The support recently has been phenomenal, and if you're a new reader then welcome! I'm so fortunate to have readers who are so sweet and funny and create such an amazing atmosphere and I couldn't be more thankful for you all!
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~ sophie xx
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