Butterflies flutter around in my stomach like mad as my eyes shoot open, staring down into a black abyss. Confusion. That's my main emotion. Where am I and how did I get here? An awful, ear-piercing shriek rips through the air, inturupting my thought. I somewhat pained sound escapes my lips as I lamp my hands over my ears. My pale, shaking fingers do little to numb the blaring. My eyes follow the metal walls caging me in upward. A blinking red light invites towards it. And by the looks of it, I don't really have a choice. The prison races towards it. A sudden rush of adrenaline flows through my probably blue and curdled blood. But not the good type. The like you're falling off a building. Nausea dominated my conciousness, dazing me slightly. From my throat, a portion of my most recent meal appears, disappearing into the nothingness below my feet. Once I'm sure everything that may have been in my stomach is now gone, I dare to stand up, only to be tossed down like a rag doll again.
As the red light grows closer and closer, I'm scared the cage with crash directly into it. I brace myself for impact. But none clones. Instead it jerks to a stop. The terrible alarm dulls to an eeiry silence, which only lasts for about five seconds before another sound shatters the beautiful silence. A sudden flash of white light temporarily blinds me. I cringe and hide my eyes in my arm. I only pull my sweaty head out at the shaking of the box. One of the many boys standing around me, gawking, hops into the metal prison, "It's a bloody girl." He glares at me in utter confusion.
All hell breaks loose amongst his friends, their opinions lapping over eachothers. Until one espresso ally loud and superior voice shouts, "Slim it, Shanks!" Shanks? What the hell does that mean? The tall dark skinned boy stares down upon me in explicit confusion, but appears overall more calm and collected than the first boy. "My name is Alby," his rough but somewhat soothing voice states, "Welcome to the Glade, Greenie." Glade? Greenie? What does any of this stuff mean? The two boy help my shaking body, which is degradingly shorter than them, out and onto solid ground. It's all I can do not to kiss it. The British blond one, drops my arms, I stumble backwards, but hold my ground.
I have millions of questions, but not one comes out. I swallow the lump in my throat, before opening my mouth to talk, "Where am I? Who are you?" The blond one, rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Listen, love, calm down. It's alright." Something about the way the words roll off his accented tongue makes me trust him. "The names's Newt."
The shorted one, who seems to be in charge, speaks up next, "Alright, Shanks, back to work!" His troupe of boy stalk off grumbling, still expressing their own opinions on me, positive or not. "This here, is the Glade," Newt informs, gesturing all around the now three of us. Ably whispers something in Newt's ear. He nods as Alby walks off. "How would you like a tour of the Glade?" Before I can answer he walks off and I'm following him.
I'm still very shocked by the recent events, yet Newt speaks to me in the most nonchalant of tones. She shows me the creepy forest; the Deadheads, their sleeping area; the Homestead, their makeshift weaponry, their crops, their barn, and eventually their kitchen. Newt introspduces to to their cook, Frypan, who offers me food, but honestly, food is the last thing I want right now. "Tomorrow, you'll be with me, take you're shot at gardening. Then Frypan, then Gally; keeper of the builders, then Winston, keeper of the slicers. We'll see what suits you best." I nod, and finally ask my biggest question, "What's out there?" I point to the four massive walls, each containing a large gap. "Nowhere important. But never EVER go out there," Newt replies, his voice going suddenly serious. "That doesn't answer my question," I argue, my damn curious it's getting the better of me. "Listen, love, you learn more tomorrow," he looks me dead in the eye. "Now c'mon. Let's find Chuck." Once again I follow him over to the homestead.
"Hey, Chuck," Newt smiles, to a shorter slightly pudgy boy who couldn't be more than thirteen, fourteen at the most. "Here's the new Greenie. Make her feel welcome." And with that, he's off. I open my mouth to speak, but the young boy beats me to it, "My name's Chuck, I just got here last month, before you." I raise an eyebrow, "You mean one of you comes here every...month?" He nods, "Yep. And you're the first girl." I laugh lightly, "No kidding." He smiles in reply, "I think we're gonna get along great."
He shows me my hammock, just two away from his. I crudely cut sheet lays crumpled on it. As uncomfortable as it sounds all I want is to lay down. "I'll leave you to it," he states, walking off. But I stop him, "Thanks...Chuck." He gives me a goofy smile before continuing on. I slip off my boots, allowing them to fall to the ground, and stretch out across the cloth. I keep on drifting off, and every time I do, I keep hoping I'll wake up in my own bed, whatever it feels like, with my parents, whoever they are. But I don't.
In an hour or so, Chuck fetches me for dinner. The two of us grab trays and line up for food. Frypan scoops what looks like mashed potatoes and meat onto out them, drizzled in some type of sauce. We find an empty table, and eats. Although I hardly do. Only when Chuck glances up at me do I finally take a bite. I'm sure I'd enjoy it much more if I didn't feel sick to my stomach. I notice one of the boys keeps tossing my dirty looks. "Hey, Chuck?" I ask. "Mhmm?" He replies through I mouthful of foo. "Who's that?" I question, subtly pointing to the boy who was watching me. "That? That's just Gally. Keeper of the builders. Not the nicest guy." I nod, "So...tell me about your slang words. What the he..." I trail off, not sure if I should use that word around him and his most likely pure mind, "-ck do they mean?"
Chuck explains it, as I laugh at some of the bizarre things their words mean. Shank: a friendly way to say idiot or dumbass. Shuck: sort of like saying freaking, fricking, or fucking. Klunk: Crap. Literally. Greenie: newbie or newcomer. And that's all he told me before Newt and some other boys came along and joined us. A boy with pale skin and rich black hair plops himself beside me. "Hey, Greenie," he greets, smirking at me. "Hey, whatever your name is," I replied. Honestly not knowing what the guys name is. "Minho. I'm Minho," he introduces. "I'm not really sure of my name yet," I reply, my face slightly dropping. He nods, "You'll get it back soon enough." I nod along with him, "Yes, Newt explained that to my unnknowledgable self." Minho laughed, "Your probably smarter than halff the shanks here combined." I roll my eyes and play along, "From what I can tell, that's not hard." Th rest of the people at our table laughed along, including Chuck. I'm not sure why, but it makes me feel all warm and good about myself. It's stupid.
Later that night, after eating barley two bites of Frypan's food, the boys all lit a fire. Some of the younger boys got up and began dancing around the flames. I sat myself on a patch of soft grass sat away from where everyone else celebrate or something. Even so where hidden under the surface of my amnesia, I'm pretty sure this has been the weirdest day of my life. I arrived in a metal box, to a strange field filled with gawking boys, and some friendly people like Chuck, Newt, and Minho. I lay down and gaze up at the brightly lit sky. My hands wander upward, tracing the air to make shapes out of each twinkling star. "Hey, love, what are you doing?" I British accent asks, taking a seat beside me. I instantly drop my hands and tuck them behind my head. "Nothing," I reply, blushing from embarrassment.
After about ten minutes of shockingly not awkward silence, I finally speak, "Newt, what's out there?" I point to the four stone walls which seem to have closed off the gap since I arrived. "It's the maze," he simply states. My eyes widen. Maze? "Have you tried to get through it and out of this place?" I ask somehwhat anxiously. "Well, love, that's easier said than done," he chuckles, exchanging a glance with me. "But have you?" I ask more firmly. "Yes. Every day," he replies ore seriously. "Who explores it?" I question yet again. "That dumb shank talking to you earlier, Minho, that's his job. He runs through the maze every day at dawn, looking for a way out." I take a huge breath, "And how long have you been looking?" He hesitates slightly, but does answer; "Three years." I nearly choke on my own saliva "Three years? And you haven't found anything?" He flashes me a serious look. I nearly instantly regret my words, "I'm sorry. That was a bitch move."
He shakes his head slightly, "No, you're curious. There's a difference." I smirk, "I'm a curious bitch." He laughs, "You'd better not let Chuck hear you using that kind of language. Don't influence the young." I laugh along with him. "Now come on, this is all for you, come have some fun," he demands, halping me up. "Yes, your majesty," I remark sarcastically, bowing.
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Hellllooooo hope you liked the first chapter. They won't all be as long as this one. I'll try to update once a week, but if you know anything a bout me, it's that I literally can't hold myself to something I say. Please comment, heart, and share xx
~Meghan