"Let's push through with this." a voice said, determination in his voice. It was also part restlessness, the way his tone dropped and the natural crescendo in his voice deepened. "They'll listen to me, I'm sure of it."
"We can't alter this trial, it's the very first—"
"It's been nearly three years. And Group B is already cracking the code, it's extremely jumbled, but they got FLOAT, and they have more people." he paused, expecting a reply of agreement, but when he didn't he went on. "They'll agree, it'll move things forward without disrupting the order."
"This isn't a video game, Tom." the feminine voice replied, steely and firm. The faint whirring of overheated fans and blips of electronic receivers interrupted her thoughts. She frowned at the operating table, empty, for now. "There is well over fifty males in A, they could very well kill her, or worse," she shook her head, she knew it was something that her companion wouldn't understand. "It's too big of a jump, too soon."
"Or, it will speed things up. We can end this, soon enough."
The magic words of "end this" sprung her to life, and her glare softened, like a budding flower relaxing her petals open. She had to trust him, the only person she could trust was Tom. "Fine," she conceded, turning her back and typing rapidly on the transparent screens. "But what we do to A, we do to B. Switch Seong from A to B," she slowly dragged a girl's profile to the other side of the computer, the tip of her nail grazing the visage softly, as if she'd ruin it. "she'll hate us."
Tom shook his head, and placed his hand over hers, "No, because WICKED is good."
She cried out, a feeling so animal and required, as she felt the bile rapidly building up her trachea. Swallowing, only more acid forced its way out, bits either blazing into her lungs or ejected under the holey, metal frame. Crawling to the edge, she coughed, and she felt eerily light as she was being ejected higher and higher up.
A clue, she hoped, as she ripped open the nearest can, hoping to find something. Her hair fell into its contents as she forced her nose against the rim. "Coffee," she breathed out, her hands patting the distinct marron grit.
But why was coffee easier to remember than herself?
The metal prison lurched to a quick stop, over half the coffee dust spilling over her lap. And the sirens she never noticed halted, and her ears rung in reply. For some reason, an inner being made her feel guilty for opening up a container that wasn't hers, and she hastily smacked the top together.
And all at once, the roof opened. The sun beat down on her like a yellow drum, her eyes facing the rapture. She winced, but didn't move her hand forward, there was too much pain to cover up with just her open palm.
For a second, she wondered if she was expected to climb to the top. But the sirens faded, and the voices emerged.
A tall, strong figure jumped into the metal prison without haste, and she gasped, fearing his weight would send them back to wherever she came from. His dark skin contrasted against the bright sky. Her fingers dug mercilessly into the metal, scared.
"Hey, Greenie." it sounded like a greeting so natural, but for some reason when he said it, he regretted the words right as they escaped his mouth. He looked like a teenager, maybe a little older, but a kid, just like her. His eyes searched for more, as if he was seeing an apparition, but remained stagnant. "I'm Alby."
"Is that my name, Greenie?" she whispered, her fingers debating on whether to hold on tighter, or find refuge in his open hand.
"No, just for now." he almost smiled, shaking his head. "Do you remember your name?"
"It's," her head buzzed, searching for the void.
"It's okay," his voice was like a rich chocolate, deep but level. "It'll come back, I promise."
Her name? She lost her name? How could she lose a thing so valuable, she wanted to cry, and blame herself for losing a thing so important.
"Ay Alby!" a voice echoed from above, "What's taking ya so long? Is he dead or what?"
Alby looked to her, "Hold tight, Greenie." and before she could protest, she was scooped away, and being lifted into the bright light. Her body felt airy against his arms, as she was gently dropped onto the grass. Little did she know, she was in the middle of an audience, and she was the main attraction.
"Shuck it," someone said, "I think I've died and gone to heaven."
"Is that real?" she felt like she was an animal in a zoo.
"She kinda reminds me of Minho."
"Alright, slim it." another boy stepped up in front of her and Alby, but his lithe frame did nothing to block her. His hair was like unpolished bronze, dirty blond and swept over his forehead. While he sounded commanding, the purity in his bright brown eyes hinted at a bit of playfulness. "I think she's done being gawked at. The Greenie's Alby's, at least until the tour." he nodded helpfully, taking a side glance to the young lady.
She slowly got to her feet, and felt Alby nudge her with his shoulder, it hit the tip of her forehead. "Then we should get started," he grunted, his posture straighter as he gave a run through of the group of boys, still frozen. "Get back to work!"
The younger girl winced at the sudden spike in volume, and her hand flew to her hair, tugging. The group of boys dissolved like water, wandering off separate areas of the field. It was then, she noticed that it was almost pastoral, watching them. They had a garden eastward, and many animals braised by a haphazardly built red building. She would've felt even more free, if it weren't for the large grey slabs of rock surrounding the premises. Before she could question it, someone interrupted her thoughts.
"I'm Newt." the blond boy stuck out his hand with a grin, and she noticed the grime lining his teeth, she tried not to make her disgust apparent. She hoped it was from breakfast and would be gone by tonight.
Newt, like the rodent? Was what she would've asked if she had no filter, but instead distracted herself with a barely there smile. She firmly grasped his hand, shaking it to check if he was real. He squeezed back and smiled harder. "I'm—"
"The Greenbean of the month." he supplied for her, "and possibly the She-bean for the rest of our lives. Pleasure." he patted Alby on the back. "These bloody crops won't harvest themselves. I'll see you two later." and he went away like the others, towards the gardens.
She almost didn't want him to go, and turned almost desperately towards Alby. "If you want to cry, I can take you inside and leave you alone." his expression held no sympathy, "tour's tomorrow, better be up early."
"Can I take the tour now?" it was the first coherent sentence she managed to spit out.
"Eager, aren't you?" he said wryly.
"I think I'll go crazy if I'm left alone to think."
"Fine, but no questions."
Alby seemed pleased that the new Greenbean was so, complacent. And she was more than willing to follow. These guys had to be safe, at least for the moment. They were just kids, they all were, but they almost looked like they were thriving, the way they mulled about the Glade, as Alby called it. All the questions she had been piling up were slowly decreasing as the tour went on, going from area to area. She was a Greenbean because she was new, and someone new came up the metal box every month, and it's been that way for two years. Greenbeans were either confused, terrified, sometimes violent, but all of them just as empty as she was. Supplies came every week. There was a leader, a Keeper, for every job The Glade offered, and by tomorrow she'd need to go around and find the one that was right for her.
She asked one question, and maybe because she was so quiet Alby decided to answer it. "Why?"
"You seem smart." the compliment didn't faze her, "we were put here for a reason. The reason is fuzzy, but we have the gist of it. I can't explain everything now, or you'll be all jacked up for trying to take it all in."
Her body started to heat up, the pent-up frustration finally building. "You can't just leave?"
Alby's eyes darkened to an even darker black, if that were possible. "Never go outside the Glade."
The statement chilled her insides, "I'm the only girl." she stated, solemn.
"You are." and Alby looked just as perturbed. "Right now we don't know what that means, so we're taking our chances with you."
Just from her gender, she was an outsider. But from the fine wrinkles between his forehead and the defensive gaze he always wore, she could tell that he was saying it for their own safety. He was scared, just like her.
"That boy," her thoughts drifted off to the blond from before. Did the boy trust her?
"Newt?" the name rolled off Alby's tongue so comfortably. "Believe me, he'll do anything for anybody. You don't have to worry about him."
But the fact that Alby had to insist that Newt was safe, only made her even more uncomfortable.
"This ended smoother than I thought." Alby said bashfully, rubbing his neck. She knew he said that so she'd stop asking questions. "Frypan'll fix you something to eat, c'mon."
The sun was ready to dip, melting in the cloudless sky. It was only two steps in that she felt the ground rattle under her. Her heart palpitated against her chest, and she looked at the young man, who was unfazed. The Glade was moving, the walls were moving. It grumbled and heaved, gears forcing the walls together. It terrified her.
"Never go outside the Glade." Alby repeated, and walked away, and this time he didn't bother waiting for her.
That night, she couldn't sleep. She knew it from the beginning, could she even remember how to sleep? Should she even be living with a brain so empty?
Gladers were moving about, lethargic as they searched for their sheets in the Homestead. None of them had bothered to talk to her, at least not yet. Pretending not to notice, she knew from their endless stares that they were more than eager to meet the new (and only) girl.
The night sky was like a vacuum, empty and motionless. There were no stars, and she longed for the scintillating balls of hydrogen. She knew that the Glade seemed almost too convenient, too contrived to be real. Whoever put them there must've knew stars were unnecessary, because whatever they were doing was hopeless.
From the sky, the next highest thing were the walls. They were far away from her, literally, but she felt like she was suffocating in the metal box all over again.
"Greenie?" she looked up from her sitting position, it was Newt. "Here, write with this."
He bent down and handed her a piece of paper and pencil. She took the items dumbly, holding them like she had never seen them before.
"Sometimes, the box takes requests." he took the patch of grass next to her, and she noticed how he paid careful attention to one leg as he sat down. "You should make a wish or something, you might be blessed." he teased lightly, "but seriously, in case you need, you know, girl stuff."
She wanted to know if he was blushing or not, but the small lamps were only giving her shadows. Scrawling down a couple of things, she folded it twice and handed it to Newt.
He promptly grabbed the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, and gratefully he didn't even bother to ask what she wrote.
Suddenly, a mortifying shriek erupted throughout The Glade, the sound breaking into the Homestead. She clutched the thin blanket close to her chest, and a loud crackly groan screamed in reply. She shivered like a cold winter morning. It was coming from the walls, and Alby's words soon resurfaced.
"Hey," Newt had his arms sprawled over his knees, looking at her like she were a fragile doll. The way his eyes harbored so much honesty, she felt her initial distrust towards him start to melt away. "Those buggers won't get ya. Nothing will get in and hurt you, as long as you stay here." but what wasn't going to hurt her, besides her lack of sanity?
She wanted to believe him. "That's good." she managed to say.
"Good that." Newt corrected, smiling boyishly.
(a/n) Hey guys! In this ff, movie-verse and book-verse are slightly jumbled, for example Grievers are slugs, but Newt's portrayal (who doesn't love Sangster) is movie-verse. I can't really imagine a muscular Newt, I just can't. They're kids barely nearing the edge of adulthood. My original idea was to start off from Scorch Trials and work from there and... Newt's future situations to Death Cure. However, the Glade is probably the flattest part of the series where you can actually you know, be somewhat peaceful with people and attempt a relationship. I wish I had the ability to convey emotion and turmoil towards the end of the trilogy, but not right now.
Please enjoy, and thanks for reading!