A/N: Hello everyone and welcome to this first chapter of the second installment of Eli's adventures in James Dashner's world (sly disclaimer heh). If you haven't read the first installment it's on this account entitled Eli and complete. I tried to make sure there were no spoilers on the summary so yeah...

On another note, Ramadan Mubarak to those celebrating it (me included). This is to say that I'm not fully operational and updates will either be slow and well-written or quick and short. Monstrously short (which I personally hate). So since the customer is always right, what would you prefer? Slow-ass but well-written updates or the opposite? Your opinion means a lot to me (next update will be slow cause it's hot af and I'm fasting). Thanks again for your continued support and I hope you guys like this installment as much as you did the first one. Tschüss!

2. 1. Group B

The black girl, who turned out to be Harriet, was breathing heavily as she sighed, "Hi. We have a lot to talk about, Newbie."

I frowned suspiciously at them, "Who the hell are you?"

Harriet gave an exasperated sigh, "I'm Harriet. The little blonde is Sonya, the Asian is Borte, and that other one is Teresa. And you're Elizabeth, the Guinea Pig."

I blinked at the nickname, "The what?"

Borte squinted and tilted her head at me, "Maybe she has the tattoo as well."

"What tattoo?" I asked, growing frustrated with the lack of answer.

"Like the ones on our necks, or shoulders, depends on the girl. You can go check on the mirror," Borte explained as the pulled on her shirt to reveal a thin, black line going from the back of her neck to her collarbone.

I walked closer to her and read what the tattoo said: «Borte Khan, WICKED Property, Subject B7». I frowned. She didn't have a nickname to go with.

"That's it? Subject B7? Why would I be the Guinea Pig, then?" I asked, not caring if I sounded accusatory.

The poor girl looked terrified as Harriet stepped over to, rather unceremoniously; pull the collar of my t-shirt, "There it is, the Guinea Pig. Now quit your whining and tell us what you know."

I gave her a sideways glance as I extracted myself from her grip and went to the bathroom to see for myself. Sure enough, there it was. The weird thing was that I was just «Subject A» instead of having a number to go with the letter. I wanted to interrogate them about nearly everything they knew, but I was outnumbered by more than a lot.

I stayed a little longer in the bathroom and heard Harriet address one of the girls, "You sure you don't know her? Says Subject A and you're Subject A1."

It was Teresa who replied, "For the tenth time, I don't shucking know her."

"Fine, no need to use the magic word," Sonya sighed before I heard a knock on the bathroom door, "everything okay in there?"

I opened the door and sighed, "Sure, I'm the Guinea Pig for some sort of test, what couldn't be okay?"

I looked around and Borte shot me a sympathetic glance, "You know, we're as confused as you are."

I eyed her suspiciously, "Really? You don't remember anything aside from your name? Cause that's my case."

Harriet threw her hands in the air, "Fudging peachy! Not only do we not have a scrap to eat, but there's also hanging bodies and we have to take care of a Newbie."

My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets, "Hanging bodies? And what's that thing about food, how long have you all been here?"

"Quiet, Ginny, we're asking the questions in here," Harriet stated patronizingly.

I raised an eyebrow at her, "First off, it's Eli. Second, you probably won't mind me asking questions since I don't know a single fucking thing!" I ended my sentence in a bellow, which relieved me surprisingly well from the stress of the situation.

She merely smirked at me, "Feisty. I'm sure we can make something of you, Ginny."

I rolled my eyes at her and walked past them all to the next room. I was not prepared for what awaited me outside. The hanging bodies were one thing that I could live with, smell and all, but the thirty girls that looked at me as though I had three heads raised a feeling of anxiety within me that I couldn't shake off. I paused in my tracks and gave a flitting look around the faces without registering any of them.

That was, until my gaze fell on a blonde, light brown eyed girl who looked about thirteen or maybe twelve. Her eyes, though lighter in color, were unmistakably familiar. The way her anxious frown took over every single one of her features sold her out.

I knew who this girl was, and before I could stop myself I murmured, "I think I know you…" earning myself more than thirty incredulous stares.

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole, then and there. I was gradually blowing my cover, but I was practically certain that she was the sister Newt remembered. She was the right age and looked much like him. In any case, it was a bad idea to voice it and my mind raced to catch up on my blunder as Harriet pushed past the girl-Gladers towards me.

"What was that?" She asked in such a commanding tone I was certain she was born with a gun in her hand.

My mouth gaped, fishing for words, "I— I think I know her. She feels familiar."

The leader raised a doubtful eyebrow, "Right, so… stick with Tony since you seem to know her well. The rest of us are gonna have a little group chat. Oh, by the way, I hope you're not hungry because we haven't had food for three days."

"What?" I interjected, abashed.

"You hungry or not?" Harriet insisted.

My stomach suddenly felt as empty as the Box on a non-delivery day. My lips parted before I wet them nervously, "Well, I'm not hungry but I'm not exactly sated either..."

Harriet pinched the bridge of her nose as I was uncomfortably aware of all the girls' gazes resting on me, "You should go to sleep. You won't think of hunger if you go to sleep."

It didn't sound like a request or advice, so I automatically made my way towards the room I had woken up in. Teresa was still at the door, with Sonya carrying a mattress out of it— a mattress?

I squinted at her, "What're you doing?"

"You didn't think you'd carry on sleeping in there, did you?" She mused with a smirk that made her eyes twinkle a dark shade of silver.

"Why not?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest and hearing the click on my right shoulder, which was the only reminder of my injury.

"Because whether you like it or not," Harriet spoke up next to me, "you're one of us now. And we're as weak as we're divided, so you sleep in the dormitory with us."

"It's all the more reason since the door you came from wasn't here yesterday," Borte added nonchalantly.

I blinked, "You mean it was locked, right?"

She shook her head briefly, her bangs following the movement ever so slightly, "No. I mean that instead of a door, the wall continued along the room until that metal door over there."

I immediately turned to the cherry red door which bore a mockingly massive padlock. I scowled at the object and sighed before sweeping the room with my eyes until they landed on probably the youngest among them— most likely eleven or twelve.

She looked me up and down and decided, "You're weird."

I merely raised an eyebrow at her, "Cool."

She left without another word and I felt an arm falling over my shoulders. I glared at Harriet and extracted myself from her hold, "You need sleep for sure. Tony, stick with her."

Tony nodded briefly, "All right."

She didn't seem to have much of an accent, though I couldn't tell from just two words. While we were speaking, Sonya had made quick work of my mattress. There were several beds in the room, but only two mats on the floor, one next to the other. The first one on the right had already been slept in, so I figured the other one was mine. I dragged it across the room where I wouldn't be surrounded by too many people.

As I turned around, I saw Tony surveying me, looking rather interested. I pressed my lips together to hide any hostility I might've been showing —my neutral expression, as Frypan once pointed out, was that of an angry Griever—, but she merely nodded and went back to bed. I lied down and turned away from the others.

"Hey, Eli!" I turned around and saw Clint jogging towards me, looking breathless.

"What is it?" I asked, stopping on my way to the kitchen.

"Nick's sick again, I don't know what's up with him," he seemed helpless.

"What are the symptoms, this time?"

"His pulse is way too quick, and he's drenched in sweat," Clint scratched his temple, on a spot that had turned more white than it was gray. He must've had pretty klunky genes to look like a grandpa at barely twenty.

My breath caught in my throat. The feeling that clawed at my chest was heavy and painful, yet felt eerily familiar. I meant to speak but no sound came out of my throat, and I felt as though I started becoming omniscient to the conversation…

I was jolted awake by a muffled sound right next to my head. I sat up immediately and saw a mattress upon which Tony was lying down, her forearm on her forehead and each of her breaths heaved like a quiet sigh. She must've fallen asleep right when she lied next to me.

Despite her being probably younger than me, I felt somewhat intimidated by her potency as a character contrarily to her brother of whom I had always felt irrationally protective. I mean, he was most likely older than me, and obviously more experienced than I was, but I had the irrational feeling that I ought to protect him. I didn't have any memories to link that feeling to—

Yet, a strange voice taunted in the back of my mind. I realized it was masculine.

What? I tried getting another response to my thoughts, but I didn't hear —could I call it hearing?— anything anymore. I was too sleepy to give it further thought, and so I gave in to my bout of slumber again.

"Hey, wake up Ginny!" A still-unfamiliar voice jolted me out of my sleep for the second time since I had woken up in this bunker.

I grunted and sat up, grumbling, "What?" Only when I opened my eyes did I see that Harriet was munching on a cereal bar. I frowned, "I thought you had no food."

She shrugged, crouching beside me, "Didn't until this morning. Ana found a pile of food on her way to the bathroom, along with something else. Which makes me wonder, are you sure you don't know anything?"

I averted my eyes from her piercing dark ones as I frowned, "Yes I'm sure. All I remember is my name and what happened yesterday, well not all of it."

She eyed me suspiciously before presenting me with a pear, "Hungry?"

I accepted the fruit and stared at her quizzically, "You said there was something else…"

She stood up and gave me a hand I accepted, "We don't exactly know what to think of it, really. Last time we saw a guy it was Aris, after those who rescued us ushered him to his room—"

"A guy?" I couldn't keep my excitement from showing, and she had slightly-too-sharp eyes.

"Don't get too excited, all right? Guys aren't always good news, plus this one looks kind of like an old ferret," Harriet warned as she opened the door to the main room.

In the middle of the room sat a huge pile of food of all types. Even chocolate, as it happened. Seeing all the girls trying not to stuff their faces with food, I realized I wasn't as hungry as they were— or had been until this morning. I decided to wait before eating more than the pear Harriet had handed me.

Looking around the room, I realized the pile of food wasn't the only change. The door to the room I had emerged from had disappeared, just like Borte told me it had appeared yesterday morning. The door to Teresa's room was still there for some reason, but I didn't question it. The biggest change, aside from food, was the neatly arranged backpacks and weapons on the wall between Teresa's room and the dormitory. I made my way towards the overly-tempting arsenal when something most unexpected happened. I hit my chest, and then my nose, and then the rest of my body against a smooth, cool, and see-through surface. I was so taken aback that I fell entirely on my back and my vision went black for a few moments.

When I blinked again, a tall figure was smirking down at me, "We've all been there at some point," she extended a helping hand that I accepted, "I wouldn't advise you to go near our new friend's desk either, he's protected like we're gonna bloody murder him."

The fall had taken me aback, but how much she resembled Newt in her personality downright shocked me. As I stood up, I noticed that she was quite a few inches taller than I was and that she would probably arrive until under Newt's chin. I thought I had been surrounded by tall people, when I was in the Glade, but it turned out that I was the short person.

I looked back at the weapons longingly, "I wanted to check them out… hey you have an accent!" Only then did I realize that she had addressed her first sentence to me.

Tony chuckled, "Yeah, I have a bit of an accent. Couldn't notice it cause I have a temper when I get too hungry."

I chuckled as well, this situation felt eerily familiar, "Thank God they brought food, then."

She folded her arms over her chest and her t-shirt shifted ever so slightly around her hipbone that it showed a scar. It was a scar I had seen quite a few times in my days as a Med-jack, and I was shocked to see it on her. Tony had been stung by a Griever…

I was so surprised to see her bearing that scar that I completely forgot about my acting. She noticed me looking and, instead of hiding her exposed skin, lifted her shirt for me to see the whole thing. It was like a black spider web across her lower half, at the middle of which was a distinctly white scar where she had been stung.

After I asked her how she got that scar, she settled on explaining to me about the Glade and the Maze and all that pertained to the jobs around it and such things. I acted oblivious, of course, as though she were teaching me all about the world that mirrored mine so eerily. What flipped me more was that I felt like a Greenie again with a friendly, British person to show me around. We composed ourselves a copious breakfast and sat a little ways from the others, as she told me about life in the Glade.

She was a Runner too, as it happened, before she got stung and decided to join their team of Baggers. I said «Runner» and «Baggers» but their Glade had other names for the jobs just as they had a different sort of slang. Instead of «shuck», for example, they said «fudge»; and for «shank» they used the term «stick», which confused the klunk out of me.

The more I learned about the girls' Glade, the more I felt a sort of patriotism towards the one I had learned to love. The worst part of being away, and I felt it when Tony started reminiscing about the early days in Group B's Glade, was that I started missing my friends and the place I had learned to cherish. I tried my best to hide my sourness as I nodded her on to telling me more, as much as I wanted her to slim it and tell me something useful.

The occasion came when Borte called us, "Hey, our new companion has something to say apparently. Come on."

When Tony stood up, I expected her to limp, but I had a rude awakening as she sprang up easily and somewhat gracefully. I followed her, a hollowed hole slowly but painfully digging its way through my chest. I must've looked sad, for Borte to insist I sit beside her.

I sat cross-legged, as did everyone else in a semi-circle around the would-be corner of the room —it was oval-shaped—. At that spot sat a hardwood desk in front of which a man was leaning back, arms and ankles crossed. He was tall —then again, everyone was tall compared to me— and wore a white suit, tie and all. He had barely-noticeable glasses resting on his slightly crooked nose, and as Harriet said he looked kind of like a rodent. He was scanning the others' faces with a look of frustration until his eyes landed on me and, shockingly, he sent me a warm smile.

"Elizabeth," he spoke for the first time in a slight drawl, making literally everyone turn to me.