Trigger warning - implied SA
"NO!" I yell. "Come on, Thomas, you can make it!"
I face the corridor, and see him running towards us, ten metres away. The door's closing, fast. But Thomas is faster.
He slides along the floor seconds before the door is about to close, and reaches us just as the door slams shut. Janson's face appears in the window a few seconds later, eyes narrowed in anger.
"What's going on?" I snap. "Someone tell me!"
"We will," Minho promises, "when we get out of this shuck place!"
"Get any last things you need from this room!" Thomas orders, rummaging through some drawers and finding knives and ropes. Everyone splits off in different direction, some finding guns, others finding food. I look around the room, lost and confused, as if there's a fog covering my brain. Then, I snap back into my senses and being rummaging through bags, finding a black jumper and bandages.
I see Thomas put his middle finger up at Janson, before we all turn to the main door and step out into the humid air. There's a storm, the wind blowing sand into our faces. The pale moonlight shines through the clouds of dust. I'm glad it's night; I don't think my feet could withstand the burning sand in the day. We climb over a large dune, some people falling down as the heavy wind batters against their bodies.
We travel for a few miles in the storm, before I see a building hidden beneath two mounds of sand. Only its roof is exposed, glass windows sticking up from under the sand. One of them is broken, so I decide to take my chances and climb into the room below.
"(y/n), don't go down there!"
"It's fine!" I reply, clambering inside, "get down here!"
We stand in a vast room with piles of sand against the walls. Minho shines a torch around the room, and we see broken furniture and shattered glass everywhere.
"Where are we?" Minho pants, still catching his breath. Everyone shakes their heads.
"We gotta go," Thomas says, walking forward. Everyone follows him, despite me telling them to stop.
"No!" I finally snap. Everyone turns to face me. "Look, will someone please tell me what the shuck is going on!"
No one wants to answer. To be honest, they all look a little afraid of me right now, but there's something else there. Like they don't really want to accept something. Eventually Thomas steps forward.
"It's WICKED. It's WICKED, it's always been WICKED, they lied to us, we never escaped. Me and Aris, we found bodies..." Thomas faces the small brown-haired boy. Aris. "Too many to count." I close my eyes, sighing. I knew Janson wasn't to be trusted.
"What do you mean?" Minho asks. I guess no one here really knows what's going on. "Dead bodies?"
"Well... no, but they weren't alive, either. They had them... strung up, tubes coming out of them. They were being..." his voice shakes, "they were being drained. Like... their blood. There's something inside of us that WICKED wants. Something in our blood."
Everyone holds their breath in shock, looking to the floor. "Then we met this girl," Thomas continues, looking towards the dark-haired girl, "She's called Teresa. She was in another maze." Teresa? The name sounds familiar, but I've never seen her in my life.
"Okay," Newt sighs. "So what's the plan?" Thomas and Aris share an unsure glance. "You do have a plan, right?" Newt presses.
"Yeah..." Thomas exhales, "I don't know..."
Newt shakes his head in angry disbelief. "We followed you out here, Thomas, and now you're saying that you have no idea where we're going and what we're doing?" His voice shakes angrily as he glares at the brunette. Awkward silence fills the air.
"Wait," Aris mutters. "Janson said something about... people hiding in the – in the mountains. Some kind of resistance, or... or an army." Aris seems to be picking his words carefully, thinking about each word before he says it.
"The Right Arm..." Thomas finishes. "The Right Arm, if they're really against WICKED, maybe they can help us."
Me and Newt share a doubtful glance. It doesn't sound very promising.
"People?" Newt asks. "In the mountains? Mountain people?" He says it as if he's talking to a five year old. "That's your amazing plan?"
"It's the only chance we have," Thomas replies. Newt doesn't say anything back. I think we all realise that Thomas is right... these mountain people are probably our only chance.
"Hey guys!" Winston calls over from a few metres away. "Check this out."
Minho shines a torch on the floor where Winston points, and printed on the white sand is a trail of footprints. Not just one trail, but at least five.
"People have been here," I say, "but who would...?"
My voice trails off. I shake my head, not wanting to think about who – or what – might be out there. Cranks, Janson said. What are Cranks?
We explore around the different rooms, and then come across one which has a small pile of clothes dumped in the corner. Torches and lanterns sit in a table in the middle of the room, and tools such as hammers and screwdrivers lay gathering dust.
"Get anything you think you might need," Thomas says, dusting off a jacket from the floor. "We'll split up, see what we can find. Meet back here in around ten minutes."
Him and Minho go off exploring together, and Aris and Winston go an opposite direction. Teresa lingers outside of the room, unsure of what to do. I look down to my bare feet, and begin to look around for some shoes. Me, Newt and Fry stay in the room, rummaging through drawers and piles of the floor, all fascinated by the various objects lying around the room. I find a pair of shoes, grey and a little bigger than my size, but it's better than nothing. I slide them on and cringe as I feel my bare skin rubbing against the fabric, but still.
At the corner of my eye, I see a doll, lying on a chair. I pick it up, turning it around to see its face. It has a big smile stitched on, and buttons for eyes. It's wearing a floral pink dress and has a head full of red curls. I smile slightly, before it turns into a frown. I wonder who owned this doll before. A little girl, maybe? Where is she now?
I shiver as a million thoughts rush around my head. I carefully place the doll back on the chair, not letting the others see my face. My eyes begin to well with tears, but I quickly blink them away.
Then, my head feels as though it's exploding as I remember something. A teddy bear. I close my eyes and watch the image play out in my head. Small hands, grasping onto the teddy bear, squeezing it in comfort as a little girl hears screams coming from a room down the hall. A woman's voice, screaming, telling them not to take her baby away. Then big men. Picking up the girl. The teddy bear falls to the ground lifelessly, and the men march out of the house, leaving the door wide open. The girl crying as she struggles, with all her might, to get back to her mother.
That girl... that girl was me.
My legs stagger backwards slightly as my hand flies to my mouth. What was that? I just remembered something... I just remembered...
"(y/n), you alright?"
I turn around to see Newt standing behind me, his face filled with concern. He grabs on to my shoulders. "(y/n), what's wrong?"
I take a deep breath in and let it out with my eyes closed. "N-Nothing. I just... it's nothing." I open my eyes and try to smile, though I can tell Newt's not convinced.
"You looked like you were about to faint again," he says, still holding on to me.
"I'm fine," I assure him, shrugging his arms off of me gently. He looks a bit hurt, and I know I should be able to tell him everything. But not this. He nods slightly, walking away. Guilt floods through my body, and I just want to hug him again, have his hands on my skin...
I'm going to tell him. When we're alone, whenever that may be. I'll tell him about the... memory.
Reaching into a pile of clothes, I find a pair of leather combat boots, lined with fleece on the inside. They look a little bit big for me, but it's better than the grey shoes with no socks. Sliding them on, I sigh in satisfaction. It's nice to not have sand rub against my toes.
I then find a more comfortable-looking short sleeved top. It is baby blue and has a V-neck, and is made of soft, cold material which feels good against my fingertips.
"Don't look," I tell the boys, turning away from them and taking off my white tank top. I hear Newt snap quietly to Fry as I slide the blue top over my head, pulling my hair out from the collar. I take the hair tie off my wrist that I found in the clothes pile and tie my hair back into a messy ponytail, strands of hair falling down the sides of my face.
I stroll over to the boys again, rubbing my forehead as I feel a headache coming on.
"So, what did those doctors do to you?" Fry queries. "Cause, no offence, but you look awful."
I laugh, shaking my head. Laughing prevents me from crying. "I don't even know... they wired me up to some machines; felt like all of my energy was being drained from my body."
Fry shakes his head. "That's not right."
I nod slightly. "They isolated me. I was trapped in this... cold, dark room most of the time. I went to the medical room every so often, saw a bunch of doctors. And Janson. But I always had a bad feeling about him, about all of them."
Frypan explains that he's going to find more supplies in another room, sauntering off. Newt's eyes lock onto mine, glazed over with concern. "(y/n), are you... okay? Other than looking sick, you don't seem... yourself."
I look to the floor, biting my lip. "When I first arrived... that first night, when I was alone, they... they got a picture of... a picture of Chuck. Asked if I recognised him. Wired my head up to some... beeping machines."
Newt looks at me in horror. "Why would they do that?"
I shake my head, eyes still glued to the floor. "I have no idea. They asked me if I recognised him, and I said yes, but they wouldn't... they wouldn't stop. They wouldn't take the picture away. Made me look at it. And now I realise, it was probably some sort of test. To see how I reacted or something sick like that."
Silence.
"I miss that kid," Newt says softly, smiling sadly. I nod, remembering the little boy who sacrificed himself for his friend. I remember trying to pull him back... I should've tried harder.
"What's done is done," Newt says, almost coldly. I look to him in surprise, and his eyes are clouded over with sadness. He looks up, shrugging miserably. Although he's suffering, I can tell he's trying to be strong, for all our sakes. He meets my eyes again. "Is that... everything that they did do you?"
I hesitate. I decide against telling him about this... Swipe thing. For now. Instead, I tell him about Janson. I take a deep breath. "You know... Janson?"
"Creepy Ratman?"
I smile slightly. "Yeah. Well... he wasn't..." I trail off quietly, "h-he kept..."
New holds my elbows with his warm hands. "What did he do to you?"
I shake my head furiously. I can feel anxiety rising up my chest, into my throat, tightening my body. "Nothing, really, but... he kept trying to make... advances."
"What do you mean, advances?"
I blink away oncoming tears. My throat burns. "He kept... touching me... or, trying to get closer, and he was very..." I take a deep breath, "suggestive. Said that I should be 'obliging'. Touched my legs. Kept trying to look at my... chest."
Newt shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, before wrapping me into a deep hug. He whispers into my ear, tone laced with fury, "Nothing like that will ever happen to you again. I'll make sure of it."
The moment is broken by the sound of buzzing above our heads, and the room fills with light. The lights on the ceiling have sparked to life, not just in this room, but in the whole building. The two of us break apart gingerly, stepping out into a dimly-lit hallway, and see Aris, Winston, Frypan and Teresa. That's when we hear a commotion coming from our right; inhumane screams and shrieks.
Thomas and Minho run around the corner, yelling for us to go. Then we see a swarm of others following them, only they look different. Their bodies are twisting in unnatural ways, legs stumbling as they follow behind the two boys, leaving behind trails of black, gooey blood.
The Cranks.