An older man with graying hair was checking over the vitals on one of the monitors next to two hospital beds, the occupants mostly unaware of what was going on.
"The results from the simulation so far have proved interesting, though not entirely unexpected, given Subject One's attachment to A5."
The younger of the two, the nurse, pressed his lips together, looking in concern at the readings on the screen of his computer.
"She seems to be trying to fight it. Is that even possible?"
The older man leaned over, taking a glance at his companions screen.
"Ah, no. That seems to be panic induced thinking. Where the subject is unable to remember anything about the previous training simulations, its probably like she's experiencing it for the first time all over again."
The girl strapped to a bed on the far right of the room began to stir slightly, muffled sounds coming from underneath the mask covering the majority of her face.
"Doctor, I think twenty-eight is coming out of it," the nurse said with wary concern, watching as the Subjects eyelids were barely moving.
"Give them another sedative. Stronger, this time. You remember what happened to Jeffrey's. And check her straitjacket."
However, the nurse didn't even have time to turn and grab a syringe before he was bashed over the head with a metal tray.
As his assistant crashed to the ground, the older man whirled around in alarm to find two teenage boys standing over the body, trying their best to look menacing.
Winston held a small, delicately pointed silver knife in his hand, while Aris still gripped the silver tray.
The old man tossed a look in the direction of the radio on the desk, wondering if he could reach it without being injured.
"Don't even think about it," Winston snapped, taking a couple steps closer, knife pointed threateningly.
The doctor put up his hands.
"Now, here's what you're going to do. No screaming, no yelling for help. Do everything we say, and maybe you'll get out of this with all your appendages still attached. Maybe. You're going to release my friend. And that other girl. Right now."
The man didn't make a move.
"Do it."
The old man didn't move.
"Do it! Now!"
With a sound almost like a scared whimper the man went back over to the computers. Pressing a few things on the keypad the computers powered down, a barely audible sigh coming from where Emma lay.
"No! Get your hand away from there!"
Aris ordered, making the man snap back his hand from where he was reaching to the radio.
"Help undo them. Now! Both of them."
With shaking hands the older gentleman helped Aris undo the various cords, wires, and straps restraining Emma and the other girl to their beds.
As soon as it was done Winston and Aris backed the man into a large corner cabinet.
"You don't know what you're doing! These subjects are dangerous! You don't know what they're capable---"
Aris and Winston cut him off, shutting and locking the heavy metal door.
"Jeez he was getting annoying," Aris huffed, Winston nodding his head in agreement.
Quickly, they also stuffed the nurse (who was starting to come to) into a medical supply closet nearby, and pushed chairs up under the door handles, effectively locking them in for the time being.
Winston darted over to Emma's bedside, scared at how still his friend was.
"Emma? Emma can you hear me?"
..........nothing.
"She's not.......?" Aris left the rest of the sentence unspoken.
"No, she's not," Winston insisted, stubborn, refusing to even think about that.
He put his index and middle fingers under her nose, and was relieved to feel the soft puffs of air coming from it. She was alive, just unconscious.
A small cry came from the other bed, Aris rushing over to see.
The occupant, obviously female, had a black mask strapped to her head, which covered most of her entire face. She couldn't see or hardly move her mouth, and there were only a few small air holes for her to breath through.
Her arms were even wrapped up in a kind of longsleeved jacket, the sleeves tied up behind her.
Even with everything Aris had seen, WCKD was still becoming more horrible than the very creatures they feared turning into.
"Its okay, we're going to help you get out. I promise we're not going to hurt you," he assured the girl, who immediately tensed up, but then relaxed, her panicked breathing slowing some.
Winston lifted Emma into his arms as Aris borrowed a pair of sharp scissors from a medical cabinet, making quick work, first of the jacket and then the straps on the mask.
Kicking the jacket to the ground, the girl seemed to shiver when she was finally free of her restraints and wrapped her arms around herself, now only wearing a longsleeved white top and thin gray sweatpants.
She was pretty, with dark, slanted almond-shaped eyes that reminded Winston of Minho. And with dark hair that was cut to a few inches below her ears, she looked almost elfin.
Winston looked over at Aris, who stood, one arm helping support the girl whose legs were still unsteady.
"Okay, where to from here?"
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
It wasn't working! Why wasn't it working?!!
"Come on."
Thomas ran the ID card through the scanner over and over again, but the vault door stubbornly remained closed.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
This was their one chance!
"Thomas!"
Janson came towards them down the other end of the long corridor his hands up, in front of seven or eight men, most holding up taser guns, while three even had riot shields up.
Thomas threw down the card, shifting his own gun up to his shoulder, hearing it charge as he armed the weapon.
"Open this door, Janson!"
"You really don't want me to."
"Open the damn door!"
Neither of them were backing down, Thomas taking a step closer for every step Janson and his men took, putting himself between danger and his friends.
Come on Aris. Winston. What was taking them so long?
"Listen to me! I'm trying to save your life. The maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn't last one day...out in the Scorch. If the elements don't kill you, the Cranks will. Thomas, you have to believe me. I only want what's best for you."
"Yeah, let me guess. WICKED is good?" Thomas's voice trembled with barely controlled anger.
Janson smirked, putting his hands down.
"You're not getting through that door, Thomas."
But miracles of miracles, with an electric whoosh the door behind the gladers opened, revealing Aris standing with Winston, who held an unconscious Emma in his arms.
An unfamiliar girl stood with them.
A wave of relief swept over Newt at seeing Emma, he feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Hey, guys," Aris spoke, grinning.
Janson's eyes widened with shock, then outrage.
Newt and the others ran forwards, under the door to freedom. Immediately he went to Emma, whose head was lolling on Winston's shoulder.
"Its okay, I got her man," Frypan offered without hesitation, Newt nodding, understanding as the former cook took her from Winston instead.
With his limp, Newt knew he wouldn't be able to carry Emma far, and felt a sharp drop of guilt in his stomach at not being able to help in her rescue more.
"Come on!"
"Thomas! Come on! Let's go!"
Glancing from the threat of Jansen to his friends on the other side of the door, Thomas began firing the gun at him and the WCKD guards in rapid succession as he backed towards the door, forcing Jansen to get behind his men for cover.
The gun empty of charges, Thomas threw it on the concrete, in the direction of Jansen and the others before turning tail and bolting back to his friends.
"Shut the main vault door! Shut the main vault door! They've got the Elites!"
Jansen ordered into the small radio on his wrist, as he and his men ran after Thomas, Teresa and the gladers shouting, encouraging him to run faster.
The vault door began to shut, and Thomas put on an extra burst of speed before dropping, and sliding underneath the door just in time.
Minho and the others helped him to his feet, panting as they stared through the small rectangular window at the top of the door.
"Thomas what's going on?!" Teresa pleaded as Aris smashed the keypad, but there wasn't time to answer. They had to get out of there first.
Janson's body slammed into the door, looking out at them and then futilely trying to run his card through the scanner, but there no use.
The man glanced back up at Thomas, who flipped off his middle finger at the man, a sort of last revenge.
The door was thick, but it was thin enough to hear Jansen's muffled expletive.
"You little shit!"
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