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Lights flicker, casting shadows on the tiled walls, giving the place an even more sinister look. I could still hear the others voices in the hallway, checking the other rooms for anything useful. So far the building had been abandoned, save for the corpses littering the floor.
My hair stuck to my neck, fingers tingling and ready should anything jump out of the shadows. I squeaked when my shoes suddenly got wet, almost gagging when I realized it was blood. The metallic smell filling the room, it was a miracle I hadn’t noticed it earlier.
‘Maddy? You got anything?’ Mark called from somewhere behind me, his voice echoing in the seemingly empty compound.
‘Uhhhhh? You might wanna see this actually’ my voice going in that extra high pitch I get whenever I'm weirded out. Embarrassing.
Mike shuffled into the room, wrinkling his nose at the blood soaking his shoes. The flickering light bathed him in shadow, making him look crank-y and half human. Bold of me to say, I know. I knew the exact moment he saw ‘it’, his entire body stiffening, unsure how to proceed.
‘It’ being two bodies, a small curly haired boy, around my age probably, with a bullet wound in the chest, clearly dead. The other, a few years older than me, was also a boy, a spear sticking straight out of his chest.
‘Holy shit’ I raised my eyebrow at Mike, unimpressed by his reaction. He opened his mouth, no doubt to defend his ego, when the body with a spear in it groaned, eyes flickering open. Me, being the closest of us had the natural reaction:
‘HOLY FUCK, AGHHGGH!, 'WHAT THE HELL?’ while moving as far away as I could, Mike dragging me back with him before quickly letting me go. People who touch me without warning tend to end up with a blade or two up an unsavory place.
The boy started moving, no doubt making the spear destroy his innards if not prevented quickly. Casting a quick glance at my comrade (frozen in place, gee what effective backup indeed) I knelt beside the withering form on the floor.
‘Hey? Uh, so you gotta stop moving, or you’re probably gonna die’ I tell him, trying in vain to keep him from moving. Ignoring me, or simply not hearing he continues moving about, mumbling ‘chuck’ over and over and over like a never ending mantra.
‘Get your sorry arse over here, would you?’ I say, not bothering to see if Mike actually listens. If we can figure out who this guy is, maybe he knows something about WICKD, something that can help take those fuckers down.
Mike, finally doing something practical, pins the boy’s arms down, using his bodyweight to pin down his legs. The spear is mostly wooden, though I’m pretty sure I can see some metal poking out from the wound. Leaning close, so I can feel the boy’s breath ghosting my face,
‘This is gonna hurt like fuck’ my voice says, though at this point im in that inbetween when using powers, while pulling out the spear in a swift motion. His screams echo, before the darkness blissfully pulls him under.
A quick sweep of the room lets me know the basics:
Gally, subject A9, keeper of the builders. nothing on how he ended up skewered like a kebab, or the kid with glassy eyes just a few meters away, though it seems a safe bet so assume his name was Chuck.
Gally wakes twice on the way home, spewing nonsense about saving ‘Chuck’ and how they can’t leave. He’s gotta be pretty fucked up if he wants to STAY with WICKD. Poor guy.
When they lay him on a bed in the infirmary, the white sheets not doing his pale skin any favors, I find myself sticking around for a while, unable to figure out quite why. Despite spending time at WICKD previously, I had never actually interacted with any subjects, so it was sentimentality or friendship holding me back. I let go of that kind of bullshit years ago. (or so I tell myself when the hollowing loneliness seems to be making a home for itself in the growing hole between my ribs.
And yet, I stayed. I left only three days later for a job, questions still swirling around my head.
GALLY
A female voice keeps repeating orders of keeping still, over and over as I try to stop myself from pulling the trigger, a never ending loop of insanity. Finally, I regain control, opening my eyes before being blinded by pure white. WICKD. I don’t even think, just grab the closest object and hurl it at the person I can feel hovering near me.
The yelp of pain tells me I didn’t do half bad.
My chest burns, white cotton sticking out from under my shirt giving the tell-tale signs of a chest injury. Shuck. But those are thoughts for later, when I’m out and far away, since I highly doubt going back to the glade is a possibility, if there’s even anything left of it.
Admittedly, I did think WICKD would be cleaner, people actually wearing lab coats and klunk, not random looking people wearing average, if quite worn clothes. The stairs I race down are covered in rust, floors covered in dust, and is that blood?
I have to stop halfway down, unable to continue with the pain in my chest. Fingers digging into my side, I just about jump when the female voice from my dreams startles me.
‘Well look who’s finally back in the world of the living!’ she says, green eyes gleaming. A large, brown leather jacket dwarfs her slight but strong frame. Blonde hair with purple ends hangs down past her shoulders, ends scruffy and in need of a trim. I have no idea who thought it would be smart to arm a child, one who looks barely older than Chuck (the very thought of his name sends a wave of guilt and pain though me) but she’s got knives and a quiver strapped to more boydparts than not.
‘As much as I enjoy proper introductions, I gotta go if I'm going to make the truck, see you round?’ she wriggles her fingers in goodbye before running off, red shoes squeaking down the stairs and a following hallway.
‘I see you’ve met Maddy then’, another voice sounds behind me. The man introduces himself, before promising they're not WICKD and gently guiding me back to the room I woke up in. I don’t trust them, but I'm in no state to do much now anyway, especially when he explains that in missing a lung.
My next few days are spent getting used to the new environment (the right arm they call themselves) and I'd almost forgotten the girl until Mike bangs the door to the infirmary open one day, calling desperately for a medic.
Curious, I follow him, stopping when I see her again. It’s definitely her, though she’s covered in blood, dragging a body behind her. Her hair, now above her chin, choppy and really quite similar to the way Newt always had his (a pang goes through me at the thought of Newt, all the gladers really) does nothing to obscure the glassy look of her eyes.
Eyes that lock with mine.
‘Hey Gally’ she mouths, and of course this weird child knows my name. Somehow, I don’t mind that much. People around us go forward, gently lifting the body. A comrade in arms, if I had to take a guess.
‘Hey’ I answer when I'm close enough, noticing for the first time how short she really is.
‘You changed your hair’ I say, for lack of conversation, internally cringing. Shuck, how pathetic.
‘More, got it cut off trying to save someone, but sure’ she laughs, though it's devoid of all humor. ‘you know, normal 12 year old girl activities’
I snort, worrying for a moment that it’s the wrong reaction before she shoves my shoulder, rolling her eyes before heading to the infirmary, glancing back before gesturing me to follow.
Chuck was around twelve when he was in the glade, scared and nervous and eager to please. This girl was a lot more hardened by the world, older, despite being the same age.
I might not have been able to save Chuck, but at least maybe I can help her.