Putting up the first chapter and having six follows within the hour made me so excited that I just had to put the second one up as well! Thank you guys SO MUCH for the incredible feedback, I'm so happy you all like The One Good Thing so far. There's so much more to come, so stay tuned. As always, I own nothing aside from Charly and the storyline that my imagination has been harboring. All Maze Runner characters and initial storyline belong to James Dashner.
Alby's tall, muscular frame came into view chuckling, leaning up against the doorframe. He sighed before taking up a more serious tone and standing up straight.
"Right then. Let's get on with this."
Charly stood, shaking her hesitation and nervousness quickly aside. She needed to hold her own, to show that she was equally as capable as the rest of the boys she was to live with. But this seemed a silly thought, in retrospect. Charly didn't know what they were even trying to do, nor what they have done in the past. All she knew was that she had to be different, a feeling that manifested itself in the note still tucked away in her waistband.
The pair headed down the shaky steps of the building and out onto the lush greenery of the Glade, as Alby had called it earlier. Immediately, Charly felt eyes bore into her as boys suddenly stopped hacking at trees and plunging trowels into fresh soil. Some were reminiscent of the stares she had first met arriving in the box; looks of surprise and inquisitiveness accompanied by hushed whispers to others. Some were a bit more rude.
"Stop ogling her, shank," a dark-haired boy burst out to her left. He slapped the boy beside him upside the head, who previously had been staring at Charly with glazed over eyes and a smile plastered lazily to his face. "She'd never go for a slinthead like you. Me, however…"
His voice trailed off as he cast a coy smirk at Charly who, tight-lipped and unblinking, did not return the gesture.
"Hey," Alby's voice boomed sternly. He didn't yell, but this low growl of a demand was most certainly worse." Jack, turn that shuck head of yours back to that soil. Remember the rules." Jack and his friend returned to their work abruptly, any hint of a smile wiped from their faces. Chary looked up at Alby, who gestured forward.
"Rules?" she questioned after they had walked a few more paces. Alby's eyes did not meet hers. Instead, they were fixated forward.
"We only have three rules here in the Glade. Number one, do your part. Number two, never harm another glader. By actions, or words." Charly looked back at Jack, who was now furiously plunging his shovel into the soil.
"And three," Alby continued. "Never go into the Maze." He broke his gaze and glanced at the towering walls. Charly followed his eyes to the maze doors and came to a stop. They were even more horrifically intimidating from ground level. She squinted, trying to see the intricate twists and turns that kept them in the Glade, but her eyes were met with an eerie darkness. It wasn't an empty darkness, the kind that signifies nothingness. Instead, this darkness was that of a cloak that kept the horrors of the maze hidden, unknown to her and the rest of the gladers. Charly almost preferred the nothingness
"Greenie, we've got a lot to get through!" Alby called out from about thirty paces ahead of her. Charly ran to keep up with him. "Trust me," he mused as she reached his side, "you'll get plenty of time to stare at those doors. More time than you'll want."
"Why aren't we allowed out? Surely that's got to be important in order for-"
"You've got this infuriating habit of asking questions when 'ya ought not to, don't you, greenie?" Alby questioned as they approached the heart of the glade. Charly could hear a snicker from behind her, and she turned to meet a familiar head of tousled blonde hair.
"I'll second that," he chimed in to Alby's amusement, leaning up against a wooden post surrounding a garden of vegetables. Charly shot him a sardonic smile.
"Don't you have a, err, job to get back to? Or something?"
Fantastic comeback there, Charly.
Newt snickered and walked towards her and Alby, and for the first time she noticed the slight way in which he favored his right leg. Newt caught her stare briefly, and for a moment there was a flash of sadness, his smile gone momentarily before reappearing suddenly as if nothing had happened
"Being second-in-command to this shank doesn't take too much outa me," he replied, giving Alby a jovial pat on the back. "He runs around doin' all the work - very well, mind you - and I'm here to make sure no one drops dead. Essentially."
"Good that," said Alby before jokingly pushing Newt aside. "Now go make sure Frypan's about done with dinner, I'm starving to shuck death." Newt gave him a quick, casual salute before heading over to a large building. It was circular, walls enforced with logs supporting a straw roof
"That's what we call Homestead. Little one next to it is the kitchens. Homestead is where most of us gladers sleep, but since you're the greenie, you'll probably be outside with most of the boys." Charly frowned at the thought of not necessarily having to sleep outside, but absolutely at the thought of sleeping amongst a group of boys she hardly even knew. At her grimace, Alby quickly noted, "if anyone gives 'ya a hard time, let me know. Don't think you'll have too much of a problem. Now, the glade is divided into four sections…
Charly heard Alby speaking, but for some reason could not focus on the words he was spouting out. The gravity of the situation was settling in on her. She had hoped that context would give her some reassurance and logical backing to the situation, but there was no comfort in Alby's words. With every new fact about her surroundings Charly found herself diving deeper into her memory, trying to figure out why this was happening to her, to everyone here. But each time she resurfaced into reality more confused than before. She was here and there was no amount of wishing or dreaming that could change that.
"…med-jacks, slicers, and the track-hoes. Got it?" Alby's question brought Charly back into the present, but she continued to stare blankly ahead of her, lost in her thoughts.
"Alby…why does this, all of this, exist? Why are we here?" Charly's voice was quiet, almost desperate. She met Alby's eyes, which softened as they met her gaze.
"Dunno, Charly. I've been here nearly a year. I still don't know."
The pair stood in silence as Charly tried her best to stomach reality. After a few moments, Alby straightened up, expression hardening once again.
"You'll be starting your keeper training under Gally with the builders. Gally!" He called out to a group of boys working to assemble a small hut. Gally quickly instructed the boys to get water and jogged to Alby's side, smiling brightly at Charly, who returned a small grin.
"I'm takin' you under my wing tomorrow, am I?" he asked, resting an elbow on Alby's shoulder.
"Looks like it, although I don't know if I would trust me with any power tools."
"Shuck, I don't know if I trust half the current builders with them either. No need to go worrying yourself, greenie. There's dinner in the kitchens if you -"
An earth-splitting rumble broke out over the entire glade as Charly's eyes shot open in surprise. Her knees buckled and she threw out a hand to Gally, who immediately grabbed her and held her upright. Much to her shock, the two boys looked completely unfazed.
"What…the hell…" she muttered as her knees still shook, a horrible grinding noise echoing around the enclosed space, filling her ears.
Gally nodded to the west doors. They were movin
"That's not possible…" Charly stammered, her eyes glued to the wall.
"Every day. Same time, without fail. They close and don't open until morning." Gally's voice sounded exasperated, and Charly thought back to Alby's words. I've been here nearly a year. A year. Stuck inside the maze with no escape.
"That's why you don't go into the maze," Alby said, voice stern once again.
"We're trapped in here, aren't we?" Charly asked, looking to the boys for some sort of answer. Alby gave her an emotionless look before turning for the kitchens.
Charly ate alone in silence that night. Frypan handed her what looked like strew with cooked vegetables, offering a smile that went unreturned. She watched the other boys talk with each other, laugh with each other. It was hard to imagine any of them coming up in the box frightened and confused like she was now. It was like this was natural, like this was home. To be fair, this was all any of them knew as home. They had nothing to contrast this life with, no family or friends to compare to those who surrounded them. For all she knew, they could have all been the best of friends before being sent up here. They could have been mortal enemies. Family. Strangers. But none of that mattered now, because they were here. Charly began to feel sick, opting to scoot her broccoli pieces around the plate with her fork instead, then stabbing them in frustration.
"Now what'd that broccoli do to you, greenie?" Newt placed his own plate down across the table and leaned back into the chair, sighing as he stretched out. Charly, still immersed in her thoughts, didn't look up. Newt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together.
"Right, my bad, Charly," he corrected himself, exaggerating the use of her name with a smile.
"I'm…actually not too hungry, I think I'm going to head to bed." She muttered, avoiding his gaze. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see his smile fade and his brows furrow.
"Listen, I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, voice softening in concern. She could sense the sincerity in his eyes, but began to get up before he had even finished the sentence. She couldn't have this conversation. Not today, not right now.
"Goodnight, Newt. I'll see you in the morning." She grabbed her plate hastily off the table and strode to the sinks where other boys stood wearing aprons and taking sponges to cutlery, not before dropping her silverware in her rush. It clattered across the hard floor, bringing silence to the room as people stopped their conversations and turned their attention to the noise. Charly bent to pick up her fork and knife to some sniggers, but most simply gave her a look of pity and returned to their conversations, chatter picking up once again.
Face turning crimson to match her hair, she promptly placed the dishes on the counter and walked hurriedly out into the open air, the coolness of night washing over her entire body.
There were only a few boys scattered amongst the clearing. Some chatting, blankets wrapped around their shoulders, while some rested in hammocks, lazily swinging back and forth. Charly approached them slowly, almost cautiously, eyeing the ground for a spot she could rest. A boy quickly made eye contact with her.
He had striking blonde hair and looked no older than eleven, maybe twelve. He gave her a toothy grin and waved a hand at her and Charly couldn't help but smile and wave back. It was one of the first warmer welcomes she had received in the glade. The boy turned over in his hammock and shut his eyes as did his friends.
Charly felt herself relax slightly as she finally sat down by the base of a tall tree, hugging her knees to her chest and pulling a worn quilt over her now shivering form. She eased herself onto the cold earth, laying one way then another, failing to find anything remotely comfortable. Sighing, she resorted to laying flat on her back, staring up at the tall oak tree until it became blurred, sleep slowly encapsulating her.
Bright lights. An alarm. Charly woke blinking, her vision blurred and going in and out. Her hands gripped below her, but instead of fistfuls of dirt, her fingers grasped around cool metal. A table, She sat up, hitting her head on something. A machine, white and reflective with what seemed like thousands of buttons. Her vision blurred again and Charly lunged forward, catching herself before she hit the table. A piece of paper fluttered delicately onto the floor, thrown to the ground as she lost her balance. As it twisted and turned in the air, she could see small, hurried script running across it, accompanied with the overwhelming feeling that the piece of paper was something important. But why couldn't she remember? She needed to get out of this room.
Using her hands, she flung one leg over the side of the table at a time, needing to steady herself so that she didn't fall off. Slowly, she began to slide off the table, but as she landed on the ground, her knees buckled and she collapsed, her torso slumping up against the white wall of the small room. But she hadn't landed on the cold linoleum as she had suspected. Instead, she grasped onto white fabric, pulling it out from underneath her. A lab coat, stamped with a label. WICKED.
Her vision went blurry once more, causing Charly to brace herself against the wall. Darkness, lightheadedness, but then the scene came back to her. The paper. She greedily grasped for it as the alarm continued to sound. This was familiar; she knew that although could not bring back any hints as to why. The ink was smudged, as though its writer had scrawled away hastily.
Get in the box. Get them out. Don't trust WICKED.
Get in the box? Using her hands to help her up the wall, Charly stood, and through her blurred vision could see a red light blinking in time with the alarm. Blackness. She saw again, and she was stumbling through the door of the operation room. Blackness. She was five feet away from a metal box, sunken into the ground and surrounded by a system of pulleys. The note was clutched tightly in her hand. Blackness. She knelt to the ground, trying to ease herself down. This had to be the box, this had to be what it meant. Why was she trusting the words of some unknown author? Blackness. She had fallen into the box, hearing the two metal doors swing shut above her. The sound of cranking machinery. Blackness.
Then, a blood-curdling scream.
"Charly. Hey, Charly - Charly!"
The quilt was ripped off of her as a pair of hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her as she realized the scream was her won. Charly opened her eyes. Gally was gripping her shoulders tightly, eyes wide and forehead wrinkled in concern. There were now a considerable amount of gladers resting in the clearing, all with their eyes on her for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"It was just a dream, shhh, you're alright," Gally said quietly, and the rest of the boys turned back over, closing their eyes once again. Their relaxed demeanor gave Charly the impression that this wasn't the first time a greenie had woken up screaming.
"You alright there, greenie?" Gally asked again, releasing his grip and sitting back on the ground. "Scared the klunk out of me." Charly breathed heavily, but couldn't bring herself to recall anything that had happened out loud.
"I'm fine," she sputtered, exhaling deeply and closing her eyes. "Just a bad dream, like you said."
There was a slam of a door in the distance and soon, Charly saw a figure tearing across the glade towards the clearing. As he got closer, she could see that he was limping. Newt.
"Everything…okay?" he asked between panting, his eyes wide as he looked down at Charly who had wrapped herself back in the quilt, more for metaphorical comfort than warmth.
"Yeah, m'fine," Charly said quietly, pulling back into her covers. All she wanted to do was pull the blanket over her head and hide in embarrassment.
"I just heard, well I thought..."
"Bad dream. It's okay, really."
"Right. Well if you wanted to come sleep in the Homestead, if that'd make you feel -"
"I'm fine Newt, really." Charly insisted, but could help smile at his concern. Her grin seemed to put him at ease, as Newt fell back into his confident stature.
"Good that," he stated as Gally chuckled, earning a scowl from Newt. Gally put his arms up in surrender, and Newt took one more cautious glance at Charly before turning around and heading back to the Homestead.
"What was that about?" Charly asked Gally in hushed tones, and he lay back onto the ground cradling his head in his hands.
"Nothin', greenie," he sighed, closing his eyes. "You'll have fun with that one, though."
"You're ridiculous," Charly yawned, rolling her eyes and sinking back into the ground. She stared up at the sky, pausing for a couple of moments before she noticed what was abnormal. There were no stars. She didn't know why, whether this specific detail was the last straw in terms of separation from her previous life or what, but Charly's eyes began to brim with tears. She shut them tightly, willing the tears not to fall. But the words of the note burned against her closed eyes, as though etched there permanently.
What did it mean? The words scrawled so rushed on a piece of paper, instructions meant for the person who she was in the dream. For her. She pulled the piece of paper out of her waistband once again, needing something tangible to grasp onto. The same words were etched upon the paper, albeit now the note was worn, the paper soft. WICKED. The same logo she had seen on the lab coat, repeated in capital letters on the note.
She stuffed the paper back into her waistband, forcing her eyes shut. Sleep would help.
So what do you guys think?! Be sure to let me know about your speculations about the note and Charly's dream in the comments. As always, you're all wonderful.
Quick question to leave you all with- team Newt, or team Gally? Any team Charly's?