10.4.19
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319
Thomas fell down. He heard another explosion. Many people or cranks collapsed. It seemed some of them got a very bad injury. The blending of burning and blood smell spread throughout the air. His eyes were half open, peeking through the thick smoke. He tried to get a better vision. But, it was too far to get caught by the corner of his eyes. At least, he saw Vince and his group headed to the burning berg.
He desperately felt the urge to get up and run. He couldn't just wait for the announcement of WICKED's victory, that they killed everyone at the berg. The thought made him went crazy. A flash of Brenda's last image kept haunting him, making him more insane. He forced himself to get on his feet. He needed to do something, anything to save his friends. However, not that easy. Moving became impossible for him. The bullet that had pricked his bone wasn't the same bullet from the launcher. The bullet attacked his nerve, shutting it down. He was paralyzed.
When hands reached out, he did nothing. Even though he wanted so bad to reject them, he gave up on useless body. His best effort was to kept his eye open and peek around. Newt, he saw the boy was trying hard to open the berg. Save my friends, he desperately hopped.
The fox face pulled back his troops. They got into the light plan one by one. The injured cranks were ignored. He saw two guards carried Aris entering the plane. Then, he himself was taken to the same light plane. He stole the last glance over the Berg. The fire was getting more smolder.
He was dying just to move his fingertip. Still his effort earned nothing. The bullet locked him up in his own body. Unfortunately, it wasn't the worst part. His head started to produce some terrible images of his friends. He wanted to shut his mind down as much as he wanted to think about his friends.
He did want to save his friends. He wanted to take them out of the berg before fire burned them all. He wanted to make sure that his friends were fine. He wanted to ... all of the things he wanted to do tragically end up on the stone bed that merged to the plane's floor. He lied down on it with frustration became his blanket. He wanted to scream out loud. He wanted to cry. As hard as he tried, the scream stuck before it reached his throat.
Something pricked his skin. It felt cold. Quickly, he felt like he was flying. Everything blurred, shaking. Dizziness took over him. He finally could move his finger, but it was too late. Whatever the liquid that streamed down his blood stream won. He fought to keep conscious. Instead his eyes closed and the world slowly gone.
***
His eyes fluttered. Once his eyes fully opened, he closed them. The room was too bright. He needed a few seconds until he could adjust his eyes. The wall and the ceiling colored all white. He was lying on a bed, alone. Hands and legs tied up. He tilted his head and saw the wall ahead was made from the thick glass. He found no one out there.
Where am I? He was too dizzy to remember. Not wanting to force his mind, he just took a look around, searching for some clues. The bed, the wall, the ceiling, the glass wall, and he couldn't find the door. All seemed very suspicious. He must be at the enemy's place. And then he saw a note on his shirt. Three words that called his memory, 'Property of WICKED'.
It brought back the feeling that consumed him before, frustration. He was dying to know about his friends. All of people at the Berg, Brenda, Newt, Minho ... he wasn't ready for the bad news. He wanted his friend to be saved some way somehow even though the blurry vision he had the last time he was awake made him thought the opposite thing. If the bad news was what he got, he didn't hesitate to say his life would be over. There was no life without people he loved.
"Thomas," the voice came from behind of him.
He struggled to turn his head that was suddenly so heavy. A man came from the door he didn't notice before. He was about forty. His casual white suit and his trendy hair made him looked younger. Smiled formed on his lips, a fake one.
"Who are you?" Thomas asked with curiousity burned in his chest.
The man grinned before he replied, "I'm sure you've meet my predecessors, Anderson, Paige?"
Thomas stared at the man, thinking. He knew the last name. Chancellor Paige gave him a letter that led them to escape from WICKED's headquarter. The first name, Anderson was familiar either. His instinct told him he had a kind of a strong relation with the Anderson one. It was as if he was on the verge of remembering, but couldn't truly remember. Really frustrating.
"Trying to remember, Thomas? I'm afraid all you got from the changing has faded away. But, it's okay. You don't have to remember. I tell you, they had the same position with me at that time. WICKED's leader."
"What happen with my friends?" He asked. He didn't care about anything, but his friends right now. Nothing was more important than his friends.
"Bad news, Thomas," the man made such a sad expression and Thomas thought it was genuinely fake. He wasn't Ava Paige. Whoever he was, the leader exactly wouldn't help him. However, it wasn't what he thought of. His words felt so sharp that easily pricked his ear. And the pain built in his chest.
"What happen with them?" he repeated the question. Trusting that man was the last time he would do. Unfortunately, he was the only one he could ask to. If there was someone who had the true information, it must be him. WICKED was the group that attacked his friends, beside the Cranks.
"I Prefer you don't hear any of it, Thomas," his sad expression disappeared and his eyes started sparkling with happiness. "Don't worry though. We're with you. We can be your new family, Thomas."
"I don't know if family will be so happy when one of them will be in a long coma, maybe even die after his brain is taken out."
The man laughed, then sat at the edge of Thomas's bed. "I'm sure family will be very happy knowing that part of us will be a hero who save the world from the Flare." He took Thomas's palm, caressed it softly.
"I don't care what you're gonna do to me," Thomas paused. He bit his inner lip in anticipation. "I only ask for one thing. Let me know about my friend!"
"Easy, Thomas." The man moved his hand to Thomas's forehead, caressing it. For a second, by the look of his eyes, he thought the man would kiss his forehead. "We won't do it so fast. We're gonna wait until you're ready."
For a moment, Thomas forget his hands was tied up. He moved his hand in order to get the man's hand off his body. The movement was too fast that made his hand hurt when it hit the metal material. "What happen with them?"
The man looked away. He stared through the window. Thomas followed his gaze and he'd just realized there was a man watching them. He nodded towards him, whatever it meant. He returned his eyes to Thomas. "Who do you think would save from that horrible fire, Thomas? And who do you thing would be able to fight hundreds of cranks? I don't need to tell you what exactly happen to them."
As soon as the man finished his words, emptiness hugged him. His vision lost. Sadness covered his eyes, making everything blur. His ear heard nothing, but quietness that slowly turned into a scream that actually formed by his own mind.
"I will give you time to mourn, Thomas. Remember, you're not alone here. We'll be waiting until you're ready." The man brought his hand to Thomas's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. All his pretense made Thomas sick. "I'm Sphenson if you wanna know my name."
He took several seconds to think and feel. His life was over. He don't need to mourn. Dead people couldn't mourn, could they? They lost their ability to feel. And that was exactly what happen. Nothing, but empty and numb.
"I'm ready. Now." He stated. His voice betrayed himself. Instead of sounding firm and steady, it was weak and hopeless. But, that was enough to make Sphenson threw his eyes on him.
"Great. Some genious doctors will take care of you, Thomas. soon." With that, Sphenson walked out of the room through the door behind Thomas's bed.
Thomas closed his eyes. He refused to think of his friends, of anything. Yet the flashes of the memories about his friends crossed his mind. Repeatedly. And he felt nothing. Only numb. He was really numb.
The next couple minutes was so fast. Some people rushed into his room. They untied his hands and feet. Two hands grabbed him by the arms, helping him to get on his feet. They guided him to leave the room. He barely felt his movement. It was like he was still lying on the bed. He thought he would fail after taking several steps, but he made it to the other room.
They ordered him to lie down on the bed. He did that without saying a word. He would follow whatever they asked him to. He had no desire to refuse, muchless to fight. Instead, he wanted to disappear as soon as possible. He wished those people sedated him immediately. No wonder when he saw a syringe, he felt a small smile formed on his face.
"Relax, Thomas."
He nodded, at least he thought he did. Then, a needle pricked his skin. The liquid poured into his vein. He closed his eyes. Everything started dissapearing, slowly.
He was half conscious when he heard the noise. He wasn't able to open his eyes to see what was going on. It didn't matter though. He focused on himself, letting his body react to the sedation.
"Thomas."
The voice. It was very familiar that he thought it came from his own mind. Even though he was about to faint, the dream still anoyyed him. So frustrating.
"It's good, they didn't do anything to your head yet, Tommy."
Who else would call him by that nickname? What a very frustrating dream. Even his half-conscious mind wasn't ready to lose them.
"You think we should carry him or ...?"
Stop! Just stop messing with my head. I know it's not real. Thomas pleaded desperately.
"Do you think one punch can wake him up?"
Minho. Punch me! And don't ever come to my dream again!
"You will break his nose and he won't even wink. He's being sedated, slinthead!"
"I'm kidding, Newt." In his head, somehow he saw Minho smirked. "We better push this bed."
"No choice. Come on, Minho!"
In three seconds, he felt a movement. The dream was getting closer to reality.
"Sorry, Tommy. This will be a bit uncomfortable." Newt's voice mumbled in his ear.
Something touched his knee. It felt real. He started wondering about that dream. He might be wasn't dreaming at all. The thought gave him the urge to open his eyes. He tried his best. But, he got pulled deeper into the unconsciousness. Drowned. And then empty.
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Don't forget to touch the star.
Thanks.
See ya,
💜
Samina