Summary : Thomas has made it to the safe haven Ava Paige prepared for him and all the other Munies. However, that doesn't mean troubles are over.
Warnings : I rated it M for future depictions of violence and sex scenes, but it won't be a large part of the fanfic.
Notes : This fanfiction takes place just after the Maze Runner Trilogy, so it's full of spoils. It's a work in progress, one of the biggest I've ever written in English, so please be patient. I can't promise you a chapter/week but I think it could be a good rythm to begin with. I hope you'll enjoy it, even if it's kind of the "rub some salt in my wound please" fanfiction. Please note that English is not my mothertongue ! If you point any mistake, tell me so I can correct it and improve myself ! Any constructive critic is good for the taking !
Pour les francophones : j'ai en projet de réécrire cette fanfiction en français. Elle sera sûrement plus aboutie, plus développée qu'en anglais, question de niveau de langue et d'aisance. L'intrigue sera plus ou moins la même, mais je ne pense pas que ça sera une traduction au sens propre du terme.
Enjoy !
Cissa
1.
His legs were hurting like crazy. His feet hit the ground, step after step, leading him further away with each second. He headed toward the forest, the trees coming closer and closer. He felt good. He felt free. He was running. He's always been running. After all, Thomas was a Runner.
It was in his veins, something he needed to do. Sure, it reminded him of the Maze, not the happiest memories he's got. Though, this had nothing to do with wandering haphazardly in a big box like lab rats. He could feel the wind on his face, the fresh air of the ocean brushing on his skin, his black hair moving on his head. This was as close as freedom as it could get.
Minho wasn't far from him. They slowed down, exploring the forest, looking for some game to bring back to the others. They built a few cabins between the woods and the Cliff, nothing that looked like a village yet. With some volunteers, Thomas and Minho went hunting, while builders put up new houses.
For security reasons, they divided the hunters in small teams, two or three people at the same time. The forest seemed quite vast, so they needed to map it while searching for food. Minho jumped in as fast as Thomas and they naturally ended together, as if they never stopped being Runners. The woods have been split in sections to ease their mapping job. Old habits die hard.
2.
Four rabbits didn't have any luck that day, for they had ended on Thomas' back. Nothing bigger on the horizon, yet the boys didn't lose faith. Their brains weren't wired to, or so said some weird and WICKED scientists. They ran again, making a ruckus loud enough to frighten every buck a few miles around. Forest wasn't their natural habitat. Not yet. Thomas was drawing the surroundings when suddenly Minho stopped by a tall bush.
"Hey! Look what I've found!"
Thomas approached, catching his breath. He glanced at the deep green leaves and dark fruits. He knew what his friend was trying to say.
"Berries! Blue, or black?" Thomas asked.
"Don't know, you shank. I'm not an expert. Anyway, I was thinking… how can we even know they're not poisonous?"
"I think there's a medic at the village. He or she should know."
Better hope there was. If not, they were in a whole new kind of trouble. How in the world could the Munies stand a chance if they didn't have any physician? They couldn't catch the Flare and that was great, but last time Thomas had checked, they still could succumb to the flu. Everything Thomas, Minho, Brenda and the others went through could be ending in pneumonia and scurvy if they weren't paying attention. The irony of it was so sick it was surely contagious.
Thomas would laugh if it wasn't that serious a matter. No, he didn't want to think about it, not now while he was nearly lost in the forest with rabbit corpses hanged on his shoulder. Minho picked a few berries as his friend searched for the pathway they've made before they started running. Making roads and putting signs in the area, that would be a shucking good idea.
3.
Fortunately, the way back wasn't that hard to find. Thomas and Minho returned to the village, dropping off their game to those who volunteered to take care of them. By the look of it, Frypan really loved his job for he was part of the cooking team. He waved at Thomas and Minho before getting back to work.
The two not-so-ex-Runners reached for the Council. It took place in the largest house of the village. The circumstances had made the definitions of 'house' and 'village' quite flexible. Words are only there to be put on a certain reality. Well, Thomas thought, those vaguely piled up branches are a house. And those roughly gathered houses are a village.
They had nothing better, but it'd do. In a few days there would be dozens of new houses, and behind them, gardens and orchards. Though it'd be taking more time, they also could replant some seeds so they'd have real crops. They had fled, scared and isolated, until they had reached this haven Chancellor Ava Paige had been saving for them. In fact, it was better than 'better than nothing': it was better than the life they had before. Here they were totally free from totalitarian governments, mad scientists, and waiting-to-die people that begrudged their immune system.
The Council was a lot like the Gathering back in the Maze. Brenda was here, same with Gally, Minho and a few others Munies that fled with them: Jeffrey, Yolanda and June. The first one was a thirty-years-old institutor, with long features, salt and pepper hair, and a charming smile. Sure he was handsome, or so said the looks women kept throwing at him. Nearly everyone, except maybe Yolanda. She was a small woman in her mid-forties with beautiful curves and long curly hair. Thomas didn't know what she did before ending on the Cliff, but she was taking good care of the kids, playing with them, telling them stories. She was a bowl of fresh air for people who felt the dread of the situation piercing their hearts. And last came June. She was almost as young as Thomas and somehow managed to look even more mature. Whatever her life was before the Cliff, it surely wasn't a piece of cake.
Together, they offered some leadership to the nearly two hundred people Ava Paige had put there. It had all begun very naturally with ones giving orders and the others following them.
Thomas let Minho enter the building and turned around. He didn't want to have anything to do with leading anymore. Time and Trials had made him sick of it. Instead he headed for the orchards to be. And maybe someone could tell him if those berries were edible.
4.
Thomas sat on the Cliff, watching the sun setting slowly beneath the sea. He never knew the sun to be the benevolent god ancient cultures used to worship. It has always been evil to him. A necessary evil, but evil nonetheless. Even here, who knew if— or when the sunflares would strike. They arrived in the forest a few days ago, using the Flat trans they had immediately destroyed and had settled nearby. They didn't really explore the surroundings yet, too busy building roofs for their heads and hunting food for their stomachs. Nobody knew where they had landed exactly. Nobody seemed to care either.
As he gazed at the bright orange disc diving from one blue to another, Thomas wondered what would be next. Life had taught him to be prepared for catastrophe. He had learnt to wait for it.
Yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like this spot. He loved it, nearly as muched as he loved running, as masochistic as it might be. After a day helping with the gardening and building, it was a certain relief to come here alone to eat some rabbit. The others were singing and dancing around a bonfire they had kindled in the middle of the village. Thomas was free to participate, however he felt he didn't belong. When he was idle, everything he went through came back like waves from the past, keeping him from grasping any joy or happiness. How could he laugh or even smile, after what all that had happened?
No. And as his past was trying to reach him again, he fought back. He didn't want to remember, or even think about remembering. He shut down his memory, kept it silent and hidden in a dark corner of his head. He knew what he had done. He couldn't change it so he didn't want to relive it. He wanted it gone, erased, vanished.
"Hey! Do you mind?"
Minho's voice put Thomas out of his miserable thoughts.
"Do you mind?" He replied. "Never thought I would like to be alone for five minutes?"
"You're welcome, shuck-face." Nevertheless, Minho sat near his friend, eating his own piece of roasted rabbit. "I left you alone all afternoon anyway."
"Yeah. You were doing great."
Silence fell again between them. It was becoming more and more usual as both boys— men?— didn't feel the need to talk. Yet this evening being mute wasn't soothing anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. Thomas grew with nervosity, trying not to show Minho how annoyed he was.
"I talked to Brenda…" he began.
"I don't want to know."
Thomas' voice was harsh, dry with a resentment his friend never knew he had. It's almost like… No, it was impossible.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Minho asked.
"Nothing. Just leave me alone."
"This morning everything was fine, we were running and hunting and joking, for sun's sake! Now you're yelling at me!?"
Thomas sneered. "Can't you hear yourself talk? Fine…? Take a look around, Minho. Nothing is close as 'fine' in this world. So yes, I went hunting with you, talked a bit, but that's where it ends. For today, at least. I want… I need to be alone." His voice had softened a bit. "Please." he added.
Looking away at the sea, Minho sighed. It was getting darker and darker, and he wasn't thinking about the scenery. For whatever reason, his friend was pushing him away, isolating himself from everybody else. Minho felt hurt, angry, worried and sad all at once. He knew he wasn't supposed to do that, not if he was a real friend to Thomas, but he got up, and left him alone.
5.
He was ashamed and he was afraid. Thomas lay down on the ground, just outside the house of the Council, trying to get some sleep. He had nothing to cover his body, nor to ease the hardness of the soil. He took it as a punishment for his behavior towards Minho. How could he be so obnoxious with so good a friend? He restrained his tears, tried to shut down his thoughts, all to no avail. He longed for sleep to forget about Minho, though he knew sleep wouldn't let him forget about Newt. Shivering, he focused on the myriad of stars shining in the sky until they were dancing, tracing billions of entangled lines. Without realizing, Thomas fell asleep.
6.
The bowling alley was ruined, and so was Newt's face. The boy had lost some of his blond hair to the brawling habits of his new neighbors. He was wounded, his ragged clothes covered with dirt and dried blood. His limp had gotten worse, surely due to a recent injury. He who was the mastermind of the Trials had been reduced to a wreck.
The other Cranks didn't matter: Thomas' mind eluded them quickly. The only thing that was important was Newt. He was the only person he could clearly see, yet seeing him like that was a whole new kind of pain. Thomas couldn't help but let a tear go down along his cheek. He walk to Newt, oblivious of the danger the other infected were. His friend was the only thing that really mattered.
"Newt…! I came for you!"
"Get out."
The scene started all over again, exactly the same. It was so vivid, forcing Thomas to relive the most dreadful moments of his life. Newt not wanting to leave, shouting at him, his eyes glowing with the fierce fire of the Flare. Madness was dwelling in his head, gnawing at his brains. Looking at him was like staring at a torn painting: everything that was beautiful and sparkling had been ternished and made ugly. The beauty had been changed into a beast.
Thomas had been through this nightmare at least a dozen times and he knew too well what'd be coming next. Knowing didn't soothe or change anything, but this night was different. The scene faded at the same moment, when Thomas left the bowling alley, however the nightmare didn't switch to their last meeting. No, it started all over, except he was Newt.
And he was shouting at Minho, telling him to go away never to come back. To let him die here, with all the other Cranks, because it was where he belonged. The place changed imperceptibly, the walls rising to the skies, the roof disappearing, the floor growing green and wet. The Glade. The Maze. It was where he belonged, where he had a purpose, a raison d'être. Now he was a nobody, helpless and useless. He felt so empty it hurt. So empty he awakened.
7.
He didn't came out of this mockery of sleep screaming theatrically or even gasping for breath. His eyes opened wide to gaze silently upon the moonless sky. The sudden realization was too crazy to be fully grasped. Putting the pieces together was already a task too difficult for Thomas: it took him long minutes before he could manage to clearly understand it.
They said he was immune to the Flare. What if he wasn't? How could he knew that was true? What if they had lied to him? Immunity truly was a lifelong thing, or not? Did they have any proof? What if he was slowly going nuts?
What if…
He realized now. His whole life had been filled with so much lies he doubted there was any truth in it to begin with.
What if the Cliff was another Maze?
What if everything was just another test?
I should have let them crack my skull open. That'd have been easier. So much easier…