Chapter Text
We left the helicopter in a flurry of commotion. People were yelling over the blades and shooting at a mass of distorted figures approaching from behind us. A large, well-guarded facility sat ahead of us. The bright lights that adorned the roof and walls lit up the surrounding area, illuminating dozens of more armed men stationed by the loading dock we were ushered towards, some zipping by on all terrain vehicles.
Newt wrapped both his arms around me, one held me securely against his side and the other to shield my eyes from the flying grains of sand pelting us and the ferocious wind. I let him lead me, trusting him to guide the way. The rest of our group trailed closely behind us, with Thomas and Minho taking up the rear. The brunet still clung onto the figure Chuck gave him, much like I still wore the knife Gally gifted to me. I tried not to think about the bloodstains on both items.
“Cranks! We got cranks!” One of the armed men shouted, firing several rounds into the night as more humanoid figures appeared over the sand dunes.
“Got a swarm coming!”
“Gotta move! Go, kids! Go, go!”
“Set a perimeter! Hold them back on the right side!”
The group of men we arrived with flanked us. One stabilized Fry when he stumbled and another pointed to the opened door. “Come on, kids, let's go!”
The man who spoke to us on the helicopter hopped onto the loading dock and helped us inside. “Keep moving! Keep moving! Almost there, kids.”
The inside wasn’t any less loud or chaotic than the outside. Vehicles drove about, machine noises were continuous, and people darted around in every direction. Most were men dressed in tactical gear with weapons slung over their back. The walls, ceiling, and floor were smooth, gray cement. Yellow, red, and white lines criss-crossed over the floor, indicating the paths of vehicles. Everything was brightly lit and several doors on the innermost wall led deeper into the building.
We huddled together in the middle of it all, unmoving and not speaking as our adrenaline diminished, leaving us weak and exhausted. I was grateful to be out of the desert and away from the monstrous creatures that were called cranks. But I didn’t feel any safer. This was unknown territory and we were surrounded by strangers, many of which carried hefty weapons I’d never seen before. They resembled guns but didn’t have a noticeable trigger or magazine release, and they were bulkier than any rifle I’d ever seen. Not that any of the soldiers were bereft of a handgun or Bowie knife.
A man in a black trench coat with graying hair addressed us. He gave us a brief once over with a pleased smirk on his face. “You kids doing all right?” When no one answered he gestured for us to follow him through one of the doors and down the hallway behind it. “Sorry about all the fuss. We had ourselves a bit of a swarm.”
“Who are you?” Thomas asked, never one to stay quiet for long.
“I'm the reason you're all still alive. It's my intention to keep you that way. Now, come with me. We'll get you kids squared away.”
My eyes darted from one thing to the next as I attempted to take in our surroundings. The facility was expansive, well-lit, and industrial in style. Clean, practical, and sturdy. Everything you would need in a post-apocalyptic world.
The man led us down the sterile hallway and away from much of the commotion. “You can call me Mr. Jansen. I run this place. For us, it is a sanctuary, safe from the horrors of the outside world. You all should think of it as a way station. Kind of a home between homes.”
“That means you're taking us home?”
“A home of sorts. Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of wherever you came from. But we do have a place for you. A refuge, outside the Scorch, where W.I.C.K.E.D will never find you again. How does that sound?”
“Why are you helping us?” I didn’t bother hiding my suspicion. After being subjected to the horrors of the maze and manipulated like a puppet, I was hesitant to put my trust in these people. Yes, they brought us to a place that was safer than the maze and the volatile desert. But even the noblest of people can have ulterior motives.
W.I.C.K.E.D claimed to be fighting for the greater good by finding a cure, yet their methods included killing children.
Good intentions don’t necessarily mean good things will happen.
Jansen glanced back at me, catching my eyes. There was something in his expression that I couldn’t place. It wasn’t malicious but it wasn’t honest either. “Let's just say the world out there is in a rather precarious situation. We're all hanging on by a very thin thread. The fact that you kids can survive the flare virus makes you the best chance of humanity's continued survival.”
Newt clenched his jaw, having picked up on Jansen’s odd reaction as well. I squeezed his hand, wordlessly telling him we were on the same page. If he tugged me closer, so our sides touched, neither of us mentioned it.
“Unfortunately, it also makes you a target, as no doubt by now you've noticed.” We stopped at the end of the hallway in front of double doors. “Beyond this door lies the beginning of your new lives. First things first; let's do something about that smell.”
Showering never felt so good. Hot water pelted my sore muscles and pulled some of the stress from my bones. The water in the Glade was lukewarm at best and only served to get the worst of the grime off. After a year of subpar hygienic care, a good shower was a luxury I would never take for granted.
Steam caused by the hot water wafted up past my body, creating a slight haze around the white bulbs that hung from thick cords in the ceiling. My feet warmed up as the water lessened the bite from the cold, white subway tile floor. The white, plastic curtain to my back trapped some of the heat, converting the narrow shower stall into a sauna.
Teresa and I were given a fresh change of clothes and taken to the women’s showers. Across the hall, the boys showered in the men’s room. I could hear them laughing and winding each other up and it brought a smile to my face. After everything we’d been through, it was nice to know the boys’ spirits hadn’t been entirely crushed. They more than earned this reprieve.
The girl in the stall to the right of mine hadn’t uttered a word to me since we arrived. If she hadn’t entered with me I wouldn’t have been alerted to her presence at all. Not that we’d socialized much prior to this considering we were too busy fighting for our lives and we didn’t possess the most peaceful history. But, still, Teresa seemed closed off, standoffish even. It felt like she was purposefully avoiding me. Much like she did prior to her stint in the maze.
Not that I really cared or sought out social interaction anyway, least of all from her. But something about Teresa rubbed me the wrong way. I tried not to hold any grudges toward her, even after everything she did to us in the trials and all of the terrible memories I have of her. Because, despite my misgivings, she was in the same boat as the rest of us. Why put her in the maze if she was on their side? Why wipe her memories if she worked with them? What did they have to gain from that?
I decided to speak with my boyfriend about it. He always gave good advice and understood where my adverse feelings about Teresa came from.
The biggest challenge would be finding someplace where we could be alone. No less than three cameras were in every hallway; more if it was particularly long or if there were turns. Every intersection brandished an extra camera and most doors were either locked or guarded by one of Jansen’s men. A special keycard was required to open them, meaning a certain clearance level was needed.
I spent the remainder of my shower formulating plans to explore the facility without being monitored. The beetle blades served the same function, to spy on us, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the cameras had a dual purpose. I sighed, unable to reach a solution to my conundrum and turned the water off.
After drying off, I changed into the gray sweatpants, black t-shirt, and the sneakers I’d been given. Both articles of clothing sat pleasantly on my body, their soft texture felt heavenly on my (Y/S/C) skin. For a minute, I wondered how they knew my size, but shrugged it off. I wasn’t about to complain about clean clothes. My belt and knife were confiscated despite my protests and I was plotting how to get them back. I brushed my damp hair with the wide-toothed comb I’d been provided then pulled it back into a ponytail and exited the showers. A woman in a lab coat and an armed guard waited for me.
“Where’s Teresa?” I followed her towards the Med Bay where I knew the boys already were. We’d only been separated for half an hour at most, but I yearned to see Newt. To make sure he and the others were okay. Secretly, I didn’t want to be alone, though my outward persona remained jaded and aloof. A disguise I wore well.
Like I did the second we’d entered the building, I took stock of my surroundings. Every door, empty room, camera, and office, the number of armed guards and doctors we encountered; anything that I thought might be important. With how many guards patrolled the halls and judging by the array of weapons each one was furnished with, I assumed they had a larger armory. Likely towards the center of the building where it was easier to access and less likely to be breached should an attack occur. A place that would undoubtedly be restricted.
“She has already been taken for medical testing.” The woman, whose name tag read Dr. Crawford, swiped her keycard to open the door we’d stopped at and then ushered me inside with a wave of her hand. To my relief, the armed man stayed behind. “You’ll be checked out and then taken to the cafeteria once you’re cleared. We need to ensure that you’re healthy and that any injuries you’ve sustained are treated.”
The expansive room had high ceilings with pale-gray walls, tile floors, and medical equipment dispersed throughout. Smaller rooms with a hospital bed in each separated by curtains lined both sides, though most were open and empty. Doctors and nurses milled about and a guard stood by every exit. Much to my relief, all of my friends were present. Someone was drawing Thomas’ blood while Fry and Winston were having their bruises treated. Thomas never looked away from the room Teresa was laying down in. Even when the nurse closed the curtain, he continued to stare.
Dr. Crawford walked further into the room while I stayed put, trying to decide whether I trusted these people enough to allow them to perform medical tests on me. Many of the staff greeted her.
“Evening, Dr. Crawford.”
“Good evening, ma’am.”
“How are the new arrivals holding up?”
“So far, so good,” the nurse monitoring Minho’s vitals as he ran on a treadmill answered.
Satisfied, she nodded. “All right.”
“Wait, what is that?” A thick, British accent caught my attention. My head snapped to the left where my boyfriend was seated, a male doctor holding a large needle to the vein in the crook of his elbow.
“Just a little cocktail.” He tapped the syringe to release any air bubbles. “Calcium, folate,vitamins A through Z. Pretty much everything you've been deprived of out there.”
Big, honey-brown eyes fell on me and Newt instantly relaxed. His taut muscles and tense posture loosened so the doctor could properly treat him. The cut below his left eye looked much better than it had when we arrived and I had no doubt that his arm was bandaged as well. The medical care here far exceeded what we had in the Glade.
Unexpectedly, Newt’s expression morphed into one of alarm and he jumped out of his seat. He held his hand out towards me as if telling me to stop. Then I realized Newt wasn’t communicating with me. He was warning the person behind me. A hand landed on the small of my back and my body went into autopilot.
Spinning around, I grabbed the person’s wrist and yanked it to the side, forcing them to stand up straight. As I pulled them forward by their wrist I turned so the right side of my body was in line with the front of theirs and I struck with a hook kick to the chest. They went down like a sack of bricks.
Multiple staff members gasped and shouted but didn’t dare to get closer. All of the nearby guards converged on me ordering me to stand down while Newt and Thomas positioned themselves in front of me and behind me respectively. The rest of our friends rushed over to stand beside us. Newt took a defensive stance and analyzed our potential adversaries, prepared to defend me.
The man I attacked had brown skin, a scruffy goatee, and wore a lab coat. He felt around on the floor for his glasses with quivering hands before standing, his fearful gaze locked onto me. If another nurse hadn’t supported him, he would’ve fallen.
“What is going on here?” Jansen and several more armed guards marched toward us. He stopped short in front of Newt who stood a good head taller than him, keeping several feet between them.
“(Y/N) attacked Dr. Martin, sir,” a guard who’d seen the encounter replied.
Minho stepped right up into the guy’s space, unintimidated by the weapon he carried. The defined muscles in his arms bulged as he clenched his fists. “Only because he touched her without her permission.”
“Is that true, (Y/N)?”
I unclenched my hands and relaxed my stance. Even if I didn’t trust him, Jansen helped us and I didn’t want to jeopardize our position. Things finally seemed to be going right, my unease aside. “Yes. But I… I don’t do well with unexpected touching. I’m sorry I lashed out the way I did but it was purely reactionary.” I offered another apology to the man I attacked, though he remained staring at me like a deer in headlights, too shocked to move.
“Oh, yes. We confiscated some files from W.I.C.K.E.D when we rescued you. Your attack was documented within them. I apologize for not notifying the medical team.” He appeared to be genuine; the ugly smirk exchanged for a sorrowful frown. With a flick of his hand, the guards returned to their posts. “But I think it’s safe to assume everyone is now aware of your history and capabilities. Dr. Corbin,” a short, middle-aged woman with thinning brown hair stepped forward, “will attend to you, (Y/N). Thomas, I would like to speak with you.”
Thomas looked to Newt before going, seeking confirmation and reassurance from the voice of reason in our lives. That simple action reminded me once again how dynamic and meaningful the relationship is between Newt, Minho, and Thomas. Minho’s hot-headed but reasonable, Thomas is compulsive yet cares more than anyone, and Newt is level-headed but also loyal to a fault. Their personalities balance out perfectly. It was no wonder they work so well together and get along the way they do.
Dr. Corbin measured my height and weight and checked my vitals. She took extra care not to touch me any more than necessary, which I appreciated. Copious amounts of blood were drawn and she logged everything into a computer connected to the wall of my room while I sat on a hospital bed swinging my feet back and forth. The medicated ointment she rubbed onto the mostly-healed hole in my shoulder did wonders for the soreness and tender, fresh skin. According to her, it also accelerated the healing process. Instead of taking another week or two to heal, it’d only take a few days. A scar would remain though I’d escaped any permanent damage.
Once everyone was finished, Jansen came back with Thomas in tow. “All right, you have all been cleared to join the others. One of my men will take you down to the cafeteria while I speak to (Y/N). She will join you shortly.”
Wait. Others? I thought. How many other people are here? And why would he need to talk with me? Was it because of my violence earlier? I gave Newt’s hand a reassuring squeeze when he refused to relinquish his grip, likely fearing I’d be punished. Thomas still eyed Jansen suspiciously and the rest of our group waited for my reaction. I didn’t want to leave them so soon, but they wouldn’t be far. It’d be good for them to eat and have time to settle in. Besides, the sooner I got the audience over with, the better.
Jansen sat me down in a small, square room with nothing but a metal table and two chairs inside. The door clicked shut behind us and I was sure I heard a lock engage. There were two cameras on either side of the room attached to the ceiling and no windows save for the glass pane in the door. It resembled an interrogation room.
“So, (Y/N),” he said as he sat down across from me, a few papers in his hands, “what do you remember? About your time with W.I.C.K.E.D.”
“Not much. Just that the assholes tortured my friends and me. Killed dozens of kids in the name of science. Used us like lab rats.” My anger bled into every word. The trauma far too fresh and personal for it not to.
“And your fighting skills… where did you learn them?”
“W.I.C.K.E.D taught me.”
“Why would they teach you self defense if they used you in the maze trials? From what I saw, you’re as skilled as my security team, potentially more so.”
I shrugged and leaned back in my seat, one arm propped lazily against the arm of the chair. “No fucking idea. But most of the things they did made no sense to me.”
He nodded. “Does anyone else possess the same skills as you? Anyone I need to warn my staff about?”
Gally and Newt are the only ones who can fight like me. But Gally was dead and I wasn’t sure if I should disclose Newt’s skills in advanced combat. I didn’t know if we could handle weapons or if we had the potential to defeat armed military personnel. Eventually, I settled on the truth. “Newt does. He’d be even better than me if it weren’t for his limp. Gally could too. He was a good friend of mine that died.” He jotted something down in his notes.
“Do you remember anything from before being put into the maze? What you did at W.I.C.K.E.D or anything else that happened?”
I remember a lot of things. More than all of the guys combined. Why, I don’t know. Maybe it was because I’m a girl or perhaps the memory wipe wasn’t as effective on me. Either way, I shared bits and pieces. Until I knew I could trust these people, I wasn’t about to give away too many details.
“I know they trained Newt, Gally, and me. All of us were given puzzles and tests so they could evaluate our brain activity. Newt, Thomas, and I like science and I’m sure we did then, too. But it was Teresa and Thomas who worked closely with them. The rest is a bit fuzzy.”
“What about an organization called the Right Arm? Do they ring any bells?”
They rang plenty of bells, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Out of everything, the Right Arm seemed like the one silver lining. An organization that opposed W.I.C.K.E.D and actively fought against them. People who were willing to risk their lives so kids like me could live freely. If everything I remembered about them was true, then they were people we could trust.
“Vaguely. All I know is that they’re against W.I.C.K.E.D.”
“Really?” He mimicked my posture, head tilted to the side. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” I bit out. “Is there something, in particular, you want me to say? I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
The stupid smirk was back and I had half a mind to smack it off his rat-like face. “All right, if you say so. Final questions. Were you aware that W.I.C.K.E.D had two final candidates selected? Two exceptional and highly-valuable teens that they held above all others. Any idea who they might be?”
That gave me pause. Final candidates. Paige mentioned that to me the first time we met. Back when I was naive and gullible enough to believe her promises of a fresh start. As much as I racked my brain, I couldn’t come up with a definitive answer. Jansen made it sound like I should know. As if they came from my maze. Or were some of my friends. Maybe even… me.
“I- I don’t know. The scientists- they withheld the details from us. Newt and I assumed it was to avoid polluting the data they collected.”
“The Brit, Newt. He’s extremely intelligent, very high IQ, and has a… complicated history. Quite a bit like you.” Something in his tone unnerved me and my hackles rose. This creep definitely knows more than he says. He’s bringing up sensitive topics to bait me. To coerce me into giving him more information. “You two are very fond of each other.”
“Yeah. What of it? Our personal lives are none of your concern.”
He wrote a few more notes before nodding. “Interesting. That is all, (Y/N). You’re free to go.”
Giving him nothing more than a curt nod, I left, making sure to slam the door on my way out.
Grabbing a tray I swiped two slices of cheese pizza and a carton of chocolate milk before seeking out my friends. The cafeteria housed at least forty teenage girls and boys, all around my age. All of them dressed similarly and chatted amiably with their friends. None of them sparked any kind of recognition, the little itch in my brain absent. I found my group at a table near the back of the room sitting with several boys I didn’t know. Everyone’s trays were empty except Thomas’.
Minho waved me over. “(Y/N)!”
I sat down between him and Newt, who kissed my cheek. Between bites, I asked, “What’s going on? Who’re all these kids?”
“Most of us were rescued from one of W.I.C.K.E.D’s holding facilities,” the redhead across from me explained. “But the table of girls over there, came from a maze like you guys did.”
Three tables down there was a table of four girls and one boy. A girl wearing a hijab was talking, likely telling a story, while the others laughed. Two of them held hands and sat pressed up against each other like Newt and I did. A pale girl with an undercut had her arm across the boy’s shoulders though he seemed transfixed on the tray in front of him.
“How long have you been ‘ere?”
“Not long. Just a day or two.”
One of the boys shrugged and played with the crust of his pizza, knocking crumbs onto his tray. “That kid over there and the girls with him,” he gestured to the reticent boy, “have been here the longest. Almost a week.”
“His maze, maze B, was nothing but girls.”
“Really?” Of course, that got Minho’s attention.
The dark skinned teen chuckled, glancing between Newt and I then back to the mysterious boy. “Some guys have all the luck.”
Everyone fell silent when Jansen strode into the room; several guards behind him. He held a piece of paper to read from. “Good evening, gentlemen, ladies. You all know how this works. If you hear your name called, please rise in an orderly fashion and join my colleagues behind me where they will escort you to the East wing. Your new lives are about to begin.” He paused for dramatic effect before listing off names. “Connor, Evelyn, Justin, Peter, Allison, Squiggy, Franklin, and Abigail.”
The friends of those mentioned cheered or high-fived while some others booed and protested their names not getting called.
“Now, now, don't get discouraged. If I could take more, I would. There's always tomorrow. Your time will come. Go on, eat up.”
Minho pursed his lips and shared an uneasy look with Newt. “Where are they going?”
The redheaded teen huffed, “Far from here. Lucky bastards.”
“Some kind of farm. A safe place. They can only take in a couple of people at a time.”
That’s odd, I thought. Why just a few at a time? Where are they going? How are they getting to this safe place?
Before I could ask, Thomas jumped up like he’d been shocked and mumbled, “What the Hell? Hey, Teresa? Teresa!”
I followed his line of sight to the large windows that made up one wall of the cafeteria to see Teresa and a nurse walking by. Teresa wore an outfit identical to mine, though her long, brown hair flowed freely behind her. She spared Thomas a single glance before continuing on her way.
“Hey, hey, hey.” A guard stopped his advances when he neared the cafeteria exit, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. He said something else to Thomas that I didn’t catch and he came back to his seat, rather dejectedly.
“What’d he say?” I chugged the remainder of my milk while I waited for him to answer.
“That they needed to run some more tests. Not to worry about her.”
Minho patted his friend’s shoulder. “Then don’t. Worrying over something you can’t control is pointless. It’s like suffering twice.”
“Ya know, Minho. You say and do some of the stupidest shit sometimes, that I often forget you got a brain up there.”
Somewhere between Minho’s smartass retort and my equally sarcastic comeback, Thomas smiled.
Five guards escorted us to our sleeping quarters not long after dinner. It was overkill in my opinion, though I understood why they did it. Newt and I were a security risk. Something about that satisfied me. Knowing that Jansen recognized how dangerous we can be. Too bad that it also put us in the limelight and increased his focus on us.
They tried to put me in the room across the hall from the boys but I had none of it. There was no fucking way I’d sleep alone in an alien place. I shouldered past the man who tried to block me from entering the boys’ room with a gruff, “Piss off.” And tried not to blush when Newt’s lips turned up into a smile.
Like the rest of the facility, the room was plain with white walls and a cement floor. With nothing more than five bunk beds, overhead lights, and a row of lockers in the back to store any personal belongings.
Winston slapped the mattress of the nearest bed. “I got top bunk!”
“Too slow.” Minho stuck his tongue out at Winston from the top bunk he’d tried to claim. He laid down and placed his hands behind his head. “I could get used to this.”
Fry flopped down onto a bed, “Yeah. It ain’t half bad.”
Thomas tugged on Newt’s shirt sleeve like a young child would to garner their parents’ attention. It was sweet. “Hey, what do you think those guys want with Teresa?”
“Tommy, if there's one thing I know about that girl, it’s that she can take care of herself. Don't worry about it right now. Try to get some sleep and we’ll regroup in the mornin’.” That was enough to appease Thomas, who laid down on the bed below Minho’s with no further protest. He was tired and constantly worrying drained a person even more. It’d do him good to get some extra rest.
The boys talked eagerly about the prospect of a new life and Thomas actually seemed to take Newt’s advice to get some sleep. That gave me the out I needed to get my boyfriend alone.
“Hey,” I bumped his shoulder with mine. Well, I bumped his arm with mine. My shoulder barely reaches his. “I need to talk to you.”
We slipped into the adjoined bathroom. Newt opened the door for me and flipped the lightswitch. The bathroom was a half bath with a toilet, sink, and trash can, though the white paint made it feel more spacious than it was. He leaned against the wall while I leaned against the counter opposite him, tapping an unknown rhythm with my nails.
I took stock of Newt’s appearance. He wore khaki cargo pants, sneakers, and a blue, long-sleeve shirt. The clothes were slightly baggy on his lithe frame, but they were clean and the colors suited him. I couldn’t help but notice how the blue brought out the vibrant amber shades in his eyes.
He quickly looked away when I caught him doing the same, his cheeks dusted pink. Quietly, he said, “Darling, as much as I love spendin’ time with you. Especially one-on-one time.” I giggled. “I’m positive ya had somethin’ else in mind.”
“Yeah. I just- What do you think of this place?”
“Hm. If I’m bein’ honest, I’m still on the fence. While I’m tempted to believe that we’ve been saved, it’s still too soon to tell. Tommy definitely doesn’t trust this place.”
“And neither do I. There’s just something about Jansen that irks me.”
“Like he knows more than he lets on.”
“Exactly! And Teresa… She's another puzzle.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I don’t trust her, Newt. Something is up with her.”
The thin teen chuckled. “Don’t let Tommy hear ya say that.”
“Ugh, I know. He’s absolutely smitten.”
“Well,” a soft expression grew on Newt’s face. “I know the feelin’. Do these inclinations have anything to do with your memories of her or has something else happened?”
“Both, I think.” It was hard to explain, even to someone who knew me so well we could work together without ever needing to utter a word. “I’ve got this gut feeling. Like I did the day I went missing. I knew something was going to happen but didn’t know what. Every time I see her it’s like… it’s almost like she’s scheming.”
The subtle clench of his jaw and rough exhale didn’t escape me. Even half a year later, the wounds caused by my disappearance were still fresh, resting just below the surface with nowhere to go and no way to heal. For only being sixteen, the amount of trauma we collected is staggering. And with no proper outlet to deal with it all, everything was left to fester, simmering deep inside us as it continued to accumulate. I wondered if there were any therapists around. Someone we could vent to, who could prescribe Newt antidepressants, and who could help us process our grief, so we could start to heal from all the damage.
Newt sighed, opening his arms. I fell into his embrace, wrapping my arms around him tightly with my head on his chest. It was the first time since our escape that we were alone. “I hear ya, Love. I do. We’ll try to figure things out. Just be careful not to jump to any conclusions. Okay?”
That was reasonable. Patience isn’t one of my virtues but common sense is. As we did in the Glade, we needed to take one day at a time, carefully weighing our options and evaluating our environment. With our survival on the line, we couldn’t afford to slip up.
The next surprise came around midnight.
Sleep evaded me, hovering mere inches from my grasp while my mind raced. Thomas also laid awake, staring at the bunk above him with a blank expression. Both of us jumped when the vent cover under my bed fell open and a male voice whispered, “Hey. Down here.”
Thomas crouched on the floor and I leaned over the edge to see who it was. The others remained asleep. It was the boy from the maze of girls.
“Oh my god.”
“What the fuck?”
“Come on. Follow me.” He turned around, expecting us to follow. We looked at each other, trying to decide if we should. The kid peeked his head out a second time. “Come on, guys! We’re gonna miss it.”
Shrugging, I squeezed into the vents, Thomas at my feet. This could be an opportunity to figure out what the fuck was going on.
“Hurry, this way. Come on.”
“Hey, wait a second,” Thomas whisper-yelled. “What are we doing?”
“Come on, we're gonna miss it.”
“What am I doing? What are we doing, (Y/N)?”
“Reconnaissance. Thomas, chill.”
The kid stopped when the vent opened up into a larger unit. We knelt on either side of him and peered through a slotted vent cover in the ceiling of the hallway below us.
“Come here. Watch.” He pointed to Dr. Crawford and some other people in lab coats wheeling multiple bodies covered by white sheets into a locked room. The doors slid shut with a soft whoosh while we continued to stare, dumbfounded.
“What the fucking Hell?”
“They bring in new ones every night like clockwork.”
All the color vanished from Thomas’ face. “Do you know what they do with them?”
“I don't know. This is as far as I've ever gotten. The vents don't even go into that section. But once they go through that door, they don't come back out.” Then, he said something that made my blood run cold. “I don't think anybody ever really leaves this place.”