Dedicated to ScorchedThomas2922
A few days after Janson took me to a separate hallway, there was a lot of commotion from the area he took me. I've heard whispers among the staff about a group of kids breaking out. The day after it happened, the door to my bunk opened revealing a guy in his early twenties.
"Y/N?" He asked as he stood in the doorway. I watched as he quickly looked over his shoulder.
"That's me," I said under my breath. I took a step back when he stepped more into my room.
"It's okay," he said raising his hands like he thought that would make me feel better. "I need you to come with me."
"No," I said quickly.
"Y/N," he sighed. "I need you to trust me. I was sent in to get you out. Specifically. I'm from a group of people called, the Right Arm."
"The Right Arm," I stuttered. "That doesn't. . . That doesn't make sense. Why were you sent for me specifically?"
"I don't have time to explain, Y/N. Just, please. I need to get you back to camp quickly and safely." His pleading threw me off. The way his voice sounded desperate made me trust him. I nodded, gasping when he immediately grabbed my hand and started pulling me down the hallway.
By some miracle, we were able to get out of the building without being spotted. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was dressed as a guard and it looked like he was taking me to get more tests done. Or maybe it was because the area I was relocated to was deserted.
* * * * *
I've been with the Right Arm for a little over a week now. For the time that I've been here, everyone has been treating me oddly. Not with anger in their eyes, or fear. It was more like hope.
And some even recognized me. Like Mary. When I first got to the camp, she came up and wrapped me in a tight hug, claiming that they had been waiting for me. She still hasn't told me why they were waiting for me, but she made an effort to ensure I was comfortable.
My first night at the Right Arm, I started having dreams. They were always different, but I always remembered them when I woke up. The only consistent detail of the dreams was who was in it; me and a boy a few years older than me.
My first dream was short and simple. We were walking down a hallway. He looked as if he was 9 or 10 and I was about 6.
~•~
"Tommy," I whispered holding the boy's hand. I looked up when I felt him squeeze my hand. "I don't like this place."
"Y/N," he sighed.
"It's so. . . Clean. I mean, everything is so white and it smells funny."
"Because it's safe."
I nervously started picking at my lips. The boy I called Tommy knelt down and pulled my hand away from my lips, making me stop my nervous habit.
"Y/N, remember how mom explained that people were getting sick and that's why we had to come here? To keep from getting sick?"
I nodded my head, wanting to go back to picking at the dry skin of my lips. Tommy smiled as he rubbed my arms reassuringly.
"Well, that's why it smells funny," he explained. "Because they are keeping us safe and healthy. Do you understand?"
I nodded as he stood back up and took my hand in his. Even though Tommy was trying to reassure me, I couldn't get rid of the scared feeling inside me.
~•~
He's been in my dreams every night since. Whenever I woke up, I was left with a strange feeling of déja vú, almost as if I knew that boy.
This morning, I woke up with a pit in my stomach.
~•~
I looked around the workroom, my stomach dropping when I didn't see Thomas at his normal work area. I also noticed the other kids in the room were avoiding my gaze.
I let out a small sigh of relief when I saw Teresa walking over to her workspace which was directly across from Tommy's.
"Teresa." I furrowed my eyebrows together when she jumped as I said her name. "Where's Tommy?"
She looked around the room before back at me. When she looked at me, she had guilt in her eyes.
"Y/N," she started. By the way she said my name, I could tell I wasn't going to like what she said.
"Where is he?" I asked again, my heart sinking. My eyes filled with tears as she hesitated. "Teresa," I said through my teeth, anger building. "Tell me where he is. Now."
"Janson took him."
"What?" I took a step back, not caring that I had said that louder than I should've.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. He's being sent into one of the mazes."
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
My anger returned when she scoffed, almost like she was annoyed. "It turns out he's been sending information to some group of rebels. The Right Arm, I think."
"Why would he send information to them?"
"Because they're rebels, Y/N." She said like it was clear and I was being dumb. "They are against everything that WICKED stands for."
"Well," I hesitated. "Maybe WICKED is wrong."
~•~
It all came flooding back. The boy and I used to work for WICKED. He was sending information to the group I was with now. Shortly after the boy was taken into the Maze, I was too.
WICKED "saved" my group from the Maze days after I was put into the Glade. I always wondered why they came so quickly, but now knowing what I know. . .
What if they regretted sending me in? What if they realized something?
"You alright, sweetie?" I looked up to see Mary standing next to me. She smiled as she sat down, glancing at my uneaten breakfast.
"I just. . ." I stuttered, not sure if I should tell her about these dreams.
"What's going on?" She asked, sitting up straighter when she saw the look on my face.
"What did. . . Do you know. . . When I first was brought here, you said you were waiting for me. Why?"
She sighed, clearly debating whether or not she was going to tell me the truth. "Please, Mary," I begged. "Just tell me. Does it have anything to do with a boy named Thomas?"
Her eyes widened when I said his name. "How do you. . . You remember Thomas?"
"Not really," I stuttered.
She nodded as she looked around the camp. When she looked back at me, I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
"Y/N," she said slowly, "Thomas is your older brother. He's the one who sent us the locations of all the mazes. He was our mole. You were too."
"My brother?" I mumbled. After that fact sunk in, I asked, "Do you know why WICKED would take me out of the Maze after only being in there for a week and a half?"
"When you were with them, did they ever run tests on you?" She asked instead of answering my question.
"Every day," I scoffed. "They even had me moved to a separate area where I was completely alone."
"You're immune, kiddo."
"Immune," I said slowly. "To the flare?"
My eyes widened when she nodded. I looked down at my food, the only sound I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears. I looked up when she reached over and put her hand on my wrist.
"Y/N," she said gently. "When did you start remembering your brother?"
"Ever since I got here, I've been having these dreams about him. They were so real."
"Probably because they aren't dreams, Y/N. They're memories of you and Thomas."
I thought about what she said, trying to digest all the information that came out in less than ten minutes. I didn't say anything as she stood up and kissed my forehead.
"Mary," I finally spoke-up before she could walk away. I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. "Do you think I'll ever see Thomas again?"
I held my breath as she smiled down at me. "Honey, something tells me you will."
* * * * *
The day after I told Mary about my dreams, we heard that a group of Maze survivors was caught outside our security trap. I was in the middle of sorting through the med tent when I heard them walking into camp.
I ran my fingers through my hair as I walked out of the tent. I froze when I saw a boy leading the group of tired teens.
It wasn't just a boy. It was the boy from my dreams.
"Y/N?"
Part 3 Coming Soon