There hadn't been any time to waste. As soon as they landed in the other building, Jorge led the Gladers through a series of hidden tunnels and doors. At one point in time they were running across deteriorating roof tops, and another in a tunnel underground. Just as the Gladers were beginning to get tired Jorge pushed open one last final door and the group burst in to the cool air of the desert. The smoke from the burning warehouse billowed far behind them. Helicopters circled the air trying to locate the missing convicts.
"Thomas -,"
"Is with Brenda." Jorge cut Newt off. "They'll be ok. She knows this wasteland better than I do, Brenda knows what to do. We'll meet them at Marcus's club house."
The cold night air ran across their skin and each Glader shivered. "Where will we go then?" They had to put all their trust in to this man. A stranger. They did not know where they were going or where to find Thomas again. Each one of them had to have blind faith that Jorge will lead them to safety and not to death.
Jorge looked out in to the landscape from all directions. There were hiding spots all over the abandoned city he and Brenda had scoped out and stocked with essentials in case something like this happened and they needed a quick escape. "There's a cave just a mile that way," he pointed to a nearby rocky outcrop. "It'll have some food and water. We'll stay there for the night then get to Marcus's tomorrow. It isn't far from here but walking all night won't help anything." Jorge started to move before all of their muscles became cold.
As they walked Grace tried to keep a fair distance between herself and everyone else in the group. Newt and Minho were paying the most attention to her with Zart hovering. The three boys walked in an uncoordinated triangle around Grace. Minho to her left, Newt to her right and Zart walking behind. The plans for running away were currently on hold. Grace was too tired and too outnumbered to try and escape tonight. Plus, the promise of food and water was what she needed right now to survive.
None of the Gladers said a word to Grace as they walked towards the cave. Each one of them was mulling over a conversation they wanted to have with her in their head. Zart just wanted to get to know her better and apologize for not trying to help her sooner. He imagined this new Allen confiding in him and them becoming close as the days passed until they were inseparable. Newt's discussion with Grace would be a little more detailed. Newt wanted to apologize for things, let her yell at him for all that he's done to her, and show her how much he cared. He looked at her constantly out of the corner of his eye, wondering what exactly she thought of him. And finally, Minho – thinking less of the verbal side and more of the physical. There were no words that could accurately describe this emotion in his chest, but a long hug could. All three had different fantasies running through their mind currently but, the one thing they had in common was that each boy was convinced that they would be the ones to help Grace remember who she was.
When they arrived in the cave each person was handed a bottle of water, a canned food, and a blanket by Jorge while Teresa took the initiative to start a fire. "A small one," Jorge urged her. "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."
Before long the excitement of the day caught up with them and one by one the Gladers made themselves comfortable and fell into an uneasy sleep. Frypan, Teresa, and Aris huddled closest to the fire for warmth and were asleep first. Jorge took watch at the opening of the cave and listened as the night moved around them. Zart sat several feet the left of Grace along the back wall, too nervous to do or say anything. After several hours of tense silence, Zart finally retreated from Grace's side and fell asleep in a corner.
Minho and Newt, whom had been conversing in hushed tones on the other side of the cave while keeping a close eye on Grace, made their move towards her once Zart was gone. They had been talking about the best way to approach her and 'alone' seemed to be the best option. As they walked over Grace didn't acknowledged them and continued to stare into the dying embers. She was critiquing the poorly made fire harshly, commenting in her mind how she would have done it better. Minho sat down cross legged in front of her but it was like he wasn't even there. Grace's eyes didn't move, and she continued to stare straight through him into the fire. Newt sat next to her, nearly touching her shoulder.
"Grace we need to talk to you," Minho said in a hushed but serious voice.
"What if I don't want to talk to you?" She responded in the same tone without raising her eyes.
Newt bit his lip, "We need to know what WCKD told you so that we can tell you what really happened. You can't believe them, Grace, whatever they said. We're you're friends."
Friends. The word tasted sour in her mouth. "They didn't tell me anything. They showed me pictures of what I looked like. The pictures were pretty self-explanatory."
Minho and Newt knew what Grace looked like when they arrived at the WCKD facility. The image of her taking off her shirt to reveal an infected, beaten, and thin body would forever be engrained in their mind. She was in bad shape. She was sick and ill and on death doorstep, there was no denying it. But how could they explain to her that it wasn't them? That it was another boy, one that was dead, and her own actions that made Grace appear the way she was.
"You wouldn't eat anything, Grace." Minho started, "you wouldn't drink. You hid in the woods and would only come out at night. We couldn't have hurt you because we never saw you, don't you remember?"
Distant noises of trees rustling in the wind whispered out from her dark mind. Little clips of sunlight breaking through a thick canopy finally made her clench her eyes shut and shake her head slightly. A death glare came up to greet Minho. "There were hand marks on my neck, heels of shoes cut into my side from being kicked-,"
"Maybe we should start from the beginning." Newt cut in feeling anger rise in her voice. "You were there when they arrived in the Glade, right Minho?"
He nodded and took a minute before beginning his story. Minho wasn't sure if retelling what happened in the Glade would help, but he tried regardless. He spoke quietly about the Glade and how small it was in the beginning. How Allen, what they called her before, had a twin named Greg and Greg never let Allen speak. How everything was fine, even after George died, and how Allen was always the one to fix the boys if they got injured. Minho emphasized that no one knew what she was from the moment she arrived until the very moment they left and faced WCKD. But finally, he arrived at the first downfall in Grace's story and had difficulties bringing himself to explain it. It still pained Minho to recount the day that Greg died. "He was up on top of the shuckin' maze and he got tangled in the vines. Greg must've fell a hundred feet." Tears wanted to swell in Minho's eyes, but he wouldn't allow it.
Grace showed no emotions to the story and continued to listen with pursed lips and a hard glare. "After that things just went down-hill, I think." Minho explained how Allen never fully recovered from Greg's death and how she kind of went off the deep end. Avoiding people and not even trying to communicate with anyone in any way. Then he told Grace about Gally and the day he got stung. How he harassed her for some time after and often beat her up. They tried to stop him, Minho swore, and after a while he laid off her until Thomas arrived. When Thomas arrived, the story went quickly and escalated at the same speed. The specifics about what Allen had been doing though became broad, as if Minho could only speculate what had happened. Newt tried to add in here and there but ultimately neither of them knew for sure what had happened in the final days of the Glade for Allen besides how she managed to ruin her hand.
When they finished Grace remained silent. Contemplating the story they had just told her. It was detailed and something that would have taken up a lot of time and effort to conjure up. If Grace was previously as self-destructive as these two boys claimed, it would explain most of her smaller injuries. The small burns on her arms, the tiny scars on her good hand and legs, even the callouses – which were useful now when wielding the axe she stole from WCKD. In some situations, their explanations made sense. In others, it did not.
The most upsetting factor of their story was the boy named Greg. The name sounded familiar, the most familiar out of any of them, but she couldn't find his face. They talked about him as if he was a part of Allen, of her, and how the world shattered around them when he died. Grace would have remembered someone who meant that much to her.
Minho watched as Grace stared back at him. She was looking at him, but not focused on him. He could tell by her stare that she was trying to add everything together. "You have to believe us, Grace. We wouldn't hurt you." Minho added softly, almost begging her to remember him.
There was a 'pop!' from a piece of ember exploding in the fire that kicked something alive inside Grace's head. She could feel the heat on her shins and cheeks as her body reacted to a memory. Something was coming from the void in her mind and instead of trying to shake it away Grace clenched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, ready to face whatever horrors were about to come out.
But it wasn't a horror, instead it was a peaceful feeling. She was sitting, much like she was right now, in front of fire in a field of grass. The fire was crackling and popping, lighting up the area around her. There were hammocks tied to posts weighed down with sleeping bodies in them. Occasional grunts of snores could be heard. She wasn't tied up and she wasn't starving. Grace was just existing and finding whatever peace she could with the world. A familiar sorrow sunk into her chest of loneliness and abandonment.
The shock of a cold hand being placed on her knees tore her away from the memory. "I don't remember any of that, it doesn't make sense." Grace said quickly, pushing Minho's hand away. "I don't remember burning my hand to kill a Griever or know who Greg is -," A rock formed in her throat when his name came out. Her cheeks went warm for no reason at all and her nose began to prickle. She closed her mouth to try and suppress her emotions but caught site of Newt staring at her. "Nothing makes sense," she said to him in a shaky voice.
Newt's chest swelled with empathy. It ached for her. He moved to put an arm around Grace and pull her in, but she batted it away in defense and tried to get away from both of them. Minho, wanting nothing more than to finally hold her, saw his opportunity and smoothly met her before she got out of reach and tightly wrapped his arms around her waist. With one simple movement he went from sitting in front of her to against the wall with Grace tightly held against his chest.
Grace resisted at first and tried to squirm away from him, but Minho wouldn't budge and eventually Grace accepted him. Still unsure of who they were or what their history was, Grace was forced to realize that at least Minho wasn't her enemy.
Tear slid down her face as the cave grew darker from the dying fire. After what felt like hours, she finally relaxed and succumbed to the rhythmic heart beats echoing in Minho's chest. Before she could fully fall asleep a third hand placed itself lightly on one of hers.
Newt had moved over closer to them and sat almost shoulder to shoulder with Minho. Grace felt the heat of his body warm her backside and where his hand had been placed on top of hers. He squeezed it lightly and let it lay there, letting Grace know that he, along with Minho were there to protect her.
The closeness between the three Gladers was not uncomfortable or filled with sexual tension. It was the physical action of a promise being made; that neither of them would hurt Grace and neither of them would let her be hurt. The sense of finally feeling safe prompted Grace to speak. "I just woke up," Grace muttered softly. "Everything was white, and they wouldn't let me leave my room." Both boys remained quiet to let her finish. "I knew they weren't there for me, I knew they were up to something. This one lady came in and was testing me with objects. One of them was the axe and I took the opportunity to hit her with it." She waited for judgement to come but it never did. Both boys had done their fair share of dangerous escape plans and Grace would soon realize that. "I ran for it not really knowing where I was going."
"We were relieved to see you alive, Al'." Newt responded, his eyes already half closed from exhaustion. "We thought you were dead." All three of them ignored the incorrect name. It was force of habit and felt natural. Grace was too tired to care.
As Grace fell asleep she did not feel conflicted about the boys touching her or uneasy with unspoken intentions. The three of them were finding peace in each-others existence. Comfort in one another's touch. In a world that had been so chaotic it was nice to be surrounded by friends for a fleeting moment.
When Minho felt Grace's breathing slow and was confident she had fallen asleep he spoke very quietly to Newt. "She doesn't remember her own brother."
"I think that's for the best, don't you?" Newt mumbled after a moment. If Grace didn't remember Greg then she didn't remember how he died. Selfishly, Newt hoped for a fleeting second that Grace would never remember.
Minho didn't know how to answer that.
All night he stared at the opposite side of the cave and pondered what to do. As the hours wore on Grace's body weight became uncomfortable for him but Minho refused to adjust her. She was twitching in her sleep. He felt Newts sleeping hand slide off Grace's and hit the floor. Minho waited a moment before reaching up and tucking her hand away in his. He held her solely. Just him. Minho rested his chin on the top of her head and tried to memorize every aspect of this moment. The pull in his chest to keep Grace close to him grew and deepened. He focused in on her hand. The day he went out to the Glade to fetch Allen so he could sit in on the Gathering regarding Thomas rolled through his mind. How could he have picked up Allen's hand and looked at them so carelessly without realizing how small and thin they were? Even in the darkness now, without looking, he could tell these were not male hands. There were so many instances that should have alerted Minho over the years to Allen and what he truly was. The guilt was almost too much to bear.
As the night wore on Minho nodded in and out of an uneasy sleep. Grace began to mumble and pull away from whatever it was that she was dreaming about. He caught occasional words, "run", "don't", and "can't." It was during one of the periods where Minho wasn't sure if he was sleeping or awake, but he could have sworn that Grace was tapping on his chest like how Allen used to when trying to communicate. He reached in to his dreams to try and remember what it meant.
B.T.
"Gally can I talk to you for a minute?" Newt scratched the back of his head looking a little unsure of what he was doing.
Gally was bent over trying to sand down a nearly finished table. The tension between Newt and him had eased just slightly since Greg's death and because Allen wouldn't go near Newt. "Yeah, alright. What's going on?"
"Well Alby and I were thinkin' that maybe we should bring Allen in, good that? Check in on him and stuff. It's been almost a year now and we haven't seen him at all. Most of the boys here now don't even know he's out there."
"It's only been a couple months, shank. Lay off him."
Newt cleared his throat, "Actually Alby marked Greg's death down and we've been keeping a calendar for some time. It'll be a full year next week."
Gally crumpled the sand paper in his hand and thought for a moment. Had it really been a full year? "I don't know. He likes it out there." He didn't want Newt or Alby, or quite frankly anyone to go near Allen. Now that Greg was gone he was the only one who knew about Allen's secret and he intended on helping him keep it. Allowing Allen to stay in the woods allowed him to accomplish that and it also kept Allen for himself. Gally liked knowing that he was the only to see Allen, it made him feel special. Like he had a secret gem tucked away in his pocket that no one else could touch.
"We think it's important the other Glader's know who he is. Apparently, he scared the klunk out of one of the Runners and Minho couldn't get him to relax. Started spreadin' rumors that there's someone else in here with us that's trying to kill 'em in their sleep."
Good. Gally thought, let them think that Allen was a monster, that'd keep them away from her. "So?"
"So – we don't want none of the newbies gettin' any bright ideas about going out and hurting him. What would happen if Allen is out one night and scares someone that has a knife on them? The Slicer's carry them all the time, I'm sure others do too."
"What does Alby want to do?" Gally never considered that option. Especially since he knows that Allen does come out quite often during the night. "He won't come if he knows that the whole Glade will be there."
Newt motioned for Gally to follow him and as they walked towards the Homestead to find Alby the two boys discussed their options. "What if we bring groups out to him in the Dead Heads? That way he won't have to go anywhere"
Gally shook his head, that wouldn't work. "No, I don't think he'd want people to come out to his spot."
They found Alby sitting in the middle of the room at a table checking lists of inventories in the Glade. He looked up and put his pen down, knowing full well what the two were there for. "Well, what do you think Gally?"
He sighed, "I think you're right. 'Never thought about someone gettin' spooked by him in the night."
"Since last year there've been twelve new guys that have arrived. I think maybe one of those twelve have seen Allen. Frank from the Slicer's saw him last week and got scared, been telling everyone since then that there's someone in the woods wanting to kill us. We've tried to tell them that it's just Allen, but we don't think they believe us." He folded his hands over the papers he was working on. "Just trying to stop a problem before it happens."
Newt took a seat on a dusty and beaten couch. Gally sat on the arm rest furthest from him with his arms crossed. "Gally doesn't think that we should take people out there, which means we have to get him to come to us. Small groups preferred."
"We can divide them up by area. Slicers, Gardeners, Builders, Runners…" Gally added to be helpful. Currently the groups weren't more than a few people which would be perfect.
"I mean, we're not introducing him to everyone here. He knows some of us. You, me, Newt, Minho, Frypan, I think Winston. Why can't we do it all at once? We'll get everyone in the Gathering hall and you can bring him in Gally. Promise you'll stay by him and stuff that should help."
It was hard to argue with Alby. He was coming in to his full stride as a leader and things were going well for not only him but the whole Glade because of his decisions. There was no need to argue with Alby because he had never led them astray. Gally thought about countering his argument but quickly rethought it. Pigs would fly the day that Gally argued with Alby. "Yeah, alright. When should I get him?"
Alby picked back up his pen and started to focus back on the Glade's inventory. "Let's do it tonight. The longer we wait the more stories that will be made up."
Gally scratched his brow thinking about how difficult that would be. "I can help get him," Newt offered.
"No," he shot down quickly. "No. I'd better go alone, he trusts me."
"Take Minho with you then, that shank always does well with Allen." Alby said without looking up.
Out in the Dead Heads Allen was working on something completely reckless. Over the last two months he has been setting traps and was working on the final touches. Total there were nearly 36 traps laid out all through the trees. Most of the traps were large holes dug in the ground with spikes pointing up, covered by leaves and sticks to hide it. Others were net traps, where something would trigger a large hand-woven net covered by leaves and sticks to shoot up off the group and entangle the creature in the trees. Allen had effectively turn the entire wooded area of the Glade into a booby trap all because he was bored.
Over the last couple months, he had become less numb to his new life and began to entertain himself by learning new skills but was now struggling to find things that interested him. Working primarily at night, away from everyone and only seeing Gally was isolating.
He was cripplingly bored. He had cut down enough trees to fuel the Glade for months and whittled enough sticks and tree trunks into artwork that it would make Picasso jealous. He'd learned how to make nets out of thin strips of fabric and soft tree bark. Allen had mastered the art of harvesting edible mushrooms and identifying different species of bugs.
As the result of a bad dream in which a Griever was trying to eat him, Allen went into a fit of paranoia and made one large trap in the furthest reaches of the Dead Heads. When he stood back to admire his initial handiwork he realized how much he enjoyed making the trap and continued to make more. Over the course of the last two months all his energy went to chopping wood and setting more and more intricate traps that only captured his attention. It was just something to entertain himself and so he felt no need to tell anyone. No one came in here anyways, what was the point?
As Allen set his most recent net trap he heard the familiar strides of Gally entering the trees. He quickly covered his handy work and retreated from his masterpiece. As he entered the small opening where he kept his hammock and few odd trinkets, Gally walked into sight from the other side.
Allen gave him a friendly nod before he realized that Gally was accompanied by an additional person; Minho.
He gave Allen a wide smile, "Hey Al', long time no see." Minho was happy to see Allen but felt very indifferent towards the twin. Still heavily impacted by Greg's death, he tried his best to be friendly and respective of Greg's last wishes even if Allen reminded him of his dead brother.
Allen gave a broad smile. It'd been ages since he saw Minho. He pointed at Minho, that's all it took.
"I'm alright. Been busy, you know. Got more runners and stuff. I see you've been busy too." Minho responded as he looked around Allen's domain. Allen looked around with him, admiring his own work again then smiled and shrugged. "You've been doing ok, shank?"
He nodded with happy eyes. It was enough for Minho to let some of his guilt for not checking up on Allen subside. He seemed happy out here.
"Allen, Alby wants you to come with us and meet the rest of the Glade." Gally cut in, not liking the eager responses that Minho was getting.
Allen's face fell and in a very uninterested way, he shook his head 'no.'
"Now come on, no one's gonna hurt you. Some of the newbies have been spreading rumors about you and no one wants one of them coming out to bother you. We suspect if we introduce you they'll leave you alone. You want that, don't you? To me left alone." Gally looked at Minho for support.
"We'll be with you Al'. They're just a bunch of shucking kids anyways, you got nothing to worry about."
Gally wasn't completely right when he assumed Allen just wanted to be left alone. A part of him was starting to miss interacting with everyone else. He wanted to see his friends again. To help in the Glade. But in fear of change and judgement Allen nodded his head. He looked at Minho and gave him a look of 'when?'
"Right now. Everyone's gonna be there, including us and Alby. You won't be alone or nothin'."
Allen heaved a great sigh and weighed his options. Being gawked at by newbies or risking the chance of having newbies walking around in his freshly booby-trapped woods. The fear of seriously injuring someone far outweighed those of being social. He nodded.
Both were surprised how easy it was to convince Allen. Maybe he was finally coming around, Minho thought with a bit of optimism. Even Gally was impressed and considered what it would be like if Allen started to transition back into the Glade. He didn't like the idea much.
Together the trio walked out of the Dead Heads and into the Glade. It was late evening and it was the first time in a long time that Allen had come out of the trees in sunlight. As he came out of the shadows Gally noticed that Allen was paler than most of the Gladers from staying in the shade all the time and it made her look more feminine. He would have to tell her that after the meeting.
Walking between Minho and Gally, Allen started to feel a little nervous. Someone had started a large bonfire in the Gathering Hall and she could see Shadows starting to move in the windows as the sun got lower. He stopped walking and tapped his collarbone three times.
Minho furrowed his eyebrow, not sure what that one meant. "What he sayin'?"
Gally watched Allen tap his collarbone again. "He wants to know if Newt will be there." He looked down at Allen and tried to comfort him, "Yeah he'll be there but I won't let him near you. Promise." With a hand on Allen's lower back, Gally gave him a small push forward to get him to walk again. Minho saw the contact and thought it was odd, he'd never seen Gally touch someone like that before, but didn't think more of it.
Minho walked into the Gathering Hall first and stood on the right inside of the door. The talking silenced as Minho arrived. Gally gave Allen a supportive nod and walked in next, taking position to the left of the door. By then everyone's undivided attention was on the door, anticipating this myth of a Glader.
Allen entered next and was struck in awe at how many new faces stared back at him. So many faces that he didn't recognize and that didn't recognize him. At first there was a spike of fear in Allen's chest, but it turned to excitement. These people didn't know what he had been through. They didn't know his past or his story. Allen realized that with this group of people he had the potential to integrate back into the Glade without judgement.
"Everyone this is Allen," Alby said warmly.
Allen gave a weak smile.
"He's been the one maintaining the fire at night and keeping us warm -," It was as Alby continued introduce Allen that the first stifled laugh happened. It was a red-haired boy whispering to one of his friends that made him giggle. "- he's been here just as long as Gally, Minho, and myself." The boys laughed a little harder and the audience started to notice. Alby paused and glared to silence them. "Allen has a long history in the Glade and he means no harm."
On the other side of the room a fit of laughter broke out. Allen's smile faded, confused by what was so funny. He had a growing suspicion that it had to do with him.
Alby stopped again, "Do you care to share what's so funny?" The question was cold. One that would make most intelligent people shut up and be respectful.
But whether it was because the boy who was still laughing didn't realize what was happening, or how pissed Alby was getting, or if it was the support from his friends nudging him in the ribs to say it but very passively the chuckling boy said, "He may not arm us, but we should be worried about the pigs."
A few muffled laughs broke out. The red head on the other side of the room found it hilarious, showing that he was whispering similar things.
The original Keepers looked appalled but didn't know how to control the situation.
"Looks like klunk too! Doesn't he?" Someone said loudly to the crowd.
It wasn't funny to Allen. It didn't make sense. But the roar of laughter from new Gladers caught him off guard. He paled in embarrassment and didn't waste any time leaving.
He ran into the dark before Alby yelled at the crowd and Minho reached out to push a few boys off the chairs in Allen's defense. It was too late, Allen would never see his friends standing up for him. He would never know they tried.
Gally ran after Allen. He had a hard time keeping up with him because of the head start and lack of sunlight. "Allen! Stop!" he tried to call out. "Come on, they meant nothin' by it they were just messin' with you!"
Nothing slowed him down though as he entered the woods and expertly jumped over the roots and fallen branches scattered in the darkness. He didn't want to talk to Gally right now and probably won't want to tomorrow or any time soon.
"Agh!" A scream came from behind Allen loud enough to break his train of thought. He stopped dead and tried to listen over his heaving breathing. There was another yell for help and then another.
His stomach flipped as he realized that Gally most likely got caught in one of his traps. He ran back towards him hoping that he didn't fall into one with spikes at the bottom. As Allen neared Gally he heard a second noise moving towards the same location he was going.
Whirrrrrr. Click. Click.
"Allen, get me down from here you shucking slint-head!"
Whirrrrrr. Click. Click.
Allen skidded to a stop just below Gally dangling from a net in the tree. "Allen what the klunk is wrong with you!?" He screamed down at him.
Whirrrrrr. Click. Click.
