Zart was a simple and loyal person. His best friend was Frypan but he often found himself being friendly with everyone, even Gally and the rest of the Builders. When he arrived in the Glade he was quiet and observed more than he talked. Zart remembered the first day he saw the Glade's garden. It had been overrun with weeds, infected with aphids, and the soil was rotten. The only thing the Gladers had managed to grow there was corn, which could literally grow anywhere as long as it had enough water. By the time he had arrived there were 16 boys and none of them had a Green Thumb. Much like Gally with building, or Frypan with cooking, Zart forged himself into a Keeper Position that had never been around simply by starting the task and maintaining the chore of gardening.
"Weird, isn't it?" Zart had been huddled down close to his crop of squash when Newt joined him for a moment to help pull weeds.
Newt ripped a small plant out of the ground, "Weird is an understatement."
The two boys fell quiet for a moment, enjoying the peace of a familiar task. "She have a name?" Zart asked.
"Teresa," Newt grunted taking a moment to look up and see if Thomas and Tesera could be seen around the Glade.
"They know each other?"
"Seems like it."
Silence fell again as Zart started to prune the nearby berry bushes. The two boys worked diligently over the land as a welcomed distraction for nearly an hour before Zart asked another question. "Al' ok?"
The interest seemed to catch Newt off guard. He paused for a moment debating what to say. Normally he'd brush off the question and tell Zart to mind his vegetables. But Newt had just promised Allen the previous day to not do that anymore, and if he truly wanted Allen to transition back into the community then it started by answering simple questions like this.
Newt cleared his throat, "Why?"
Zart shrugged. "I was standin' right next to you yesterday when he told you about the girl waking up. He looked more like klunk than usual." He was trying to play it off as a careless thought but in reality Zart was extremely alarmed seeing Allen yesterday. He had been keeping an eye on Allen since the day he went into the Dead Heads and noticed how fragile the boy looked. Zart often found himself looking for Allen at dusk and dawn. During the most recent Gathering he had trouble focusing on the discussion when he noticed Al' was standing in the back of the room. Yesterday Zart couldn't help but acknowledge again how beat Allen looked and wanted nothing more than to help the boy.
"He'll be ok. Just got scratched up a bit."
"From what, he get in a fight with a shucking Griever?" Zart chuckled.
"Gally," Newt sighed after a moment, "actually."
Zart stopped trimming the plants and looked at Newt directly. "Are you serious?"
Newt glanced back for only a second before biting his lip and focusing back on the earth. He hoped that he was making the right decision by starting to reveal more of Allen's story to other Gladers. "Yeah, they uh-," New paused, "have a long history. I have to tell Minho when he gets back, he'll handle it."
"Gally has hit Allen before?"
"Look," Newt didn't like the accusatory tone in Zart's voice, "It goes back a long while and Minho has always handled it. Alby knows but we're not going to kick the shank out for it. So now you know and you can help keep an eye out for him, good that?"
The Gardener wasn't sure how to take the news but nodded his head in agreement. Zart stared into the berry bushes trying to comprehend the information. Any other boy would be put on trial for breaking one of their key rules: to not harm another Glader. What made Gally an exception?
"Al' is like half his body weight, why is Gally fighting him?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could acknowledge them. He turned to Newt and saw an expression of controlled agitation. Clearly this information wasn't something he was happy to be sharing.
Newt stood up and brushed his hands off on his pants. "It started when Gally got stung by a Griever. Way before you got here. It hasn't happened in a long time, years actually, but he does it because he blames Allen for gettin' bit and changin'."
The two Gladers were standing now, both holding gardening tools in their hands. "Well," Zart stood uneasily debating whether or not to ask the question. "was Al' the reason Gally got bit?"
The small hand shovel in Newt's hand began to bounce nervously. "Yeah. They were -,"
"Newt!" His name was called out over the Glade. "Newt!" Clint came sprinting out of the Homestead and headed straight for the Gardens. "Alby! Alby is awake!" The news settled on Newt's ears and he dropped the shovel before moving towards Clint.
"Go get him, would you?" Newt called over his shoulder to Zart.
"Who, Gally?"
"No. Allen. Go get Allen and meet us in the Homestead."
A certain sense of excitement flushed through Zart when he was given the task. Even though it meant heading back out into the Dead Heads, he was more eager to go fetch Allen this time than he was the previous. Without hesitation, Zart placed the scissors he had been using down on a table and headed towards the trees.
Allen was sprawled out on her hammock with one foot dangling off the side and an arm hanging off the opposite end, her fingers fiddling with the handle of her axe that was wedged blade first into the earth. She had her eyes closed trying to think of a happier time when her side wasn't bleeding and her chest didn't itch. The only memory that came to mind was the day Greg took her out to run in the Maze. It was right after George had died, and Alby was on a war path to get out. The twins had partnered up and they spent an entire day running around the Maze and making bad jokes. What made her happiest was that the entire time they were running Greg didn't scorn her for talking. Allen talked the entire day as her true self and it felt so freeing.
Allen couldn't let her have it though. He was her intrusive thoughts and stole away the happy memory. The war waging inside of them was growing.
We shouldn't have done it, Allen thought, we shouldn't have been in the infirmary. You're so stupid.
"I needed help." She responded. "I still need help."
But look what you did. You woke her up.
"Just shut up about it. OK? We did it. It's done." She yanked the axe out of the ground and threw it with great precision at the tree in front of them. The blade end stuck, wedging the axe in the trunk of the tree.
Allen's voice went quiet for a moment, then picked back up. Now we have Newt thinkin' he's gotta babysit us.
"And whose fault is that?" She began to pull grass that brushed her fingertips. "If you took better care of us he wouldn't have noticed."
You need to forget about Newt. The only good thing he's ever done for you is leave us alone. We wanted to be left alone, he wasn't wrong-
"You wanted to be left alone. You did. You took over. You did this to us. Forced us out here. I don't want to be living in the woods smelling like klunk all day."
It was our only option after Gally went through the changin'. It was the smartest thing to do. You're not safe here. I was protecting us. You.
"Shut up." Grace growled, wringing her fingers together.
This is all for you. Yeah we might smell like crap but I've kept our secret, haven't I?
"Shut up."
Maybe if you and Greg weren't so shucking bent over sticking together, none of this would have happened.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She pressed her hands over her ears and clenched her eyes shut. Shut up shut up shut up, the words echoed in her mind, shut up shut up shut up.
A hand fell on her shoulder for the second time in twenty-four hours as the Glade started to dim into another dull sunset. It was kinder than Newt's grasp and slightly larger.
Allen jumped so high she fell out of her hammock. Scrambling to find her bearings, she spotted who it was.
"Didn't mean to scare you," Zart muttered, "I was callin' your name, but you seemed a bit caught up…"
She flushed a deep crimson and began to back away. Sweat stains under Zart's armpits and lower back tinted his grey shirt. A pack still strapped firmly across his chest and a long machete sticking out of his belt loop. He must have just gotten done in the gardens.
"I'm not meanin' to make fun of you, I swear." Zart said quickly, sensing that Allen might run. "Newt sent me out here. Wanted to tell you that Alby is awake and that you're needed in the Homestead."
Relief melted through Allen. Not as medically confident as she once was, Allen was becoming convinced that she might have done something wrong when applying the serum. She wasn't entirely sure when or if Alby would wake up. She tried to control her heavy breathing from the shock of someone appearing in their woods. Allen looked at Zart and spun her pointer finger in the air a few times, trying to ask when Alby woke up.
"I…uh," he looked around hoping someone might come and save him. An overwhelming flush of butterflies flew through his stomach as he realize they were alone in the woods together.
Allen shook her head realizing that knowing their sign language was a bit above Zart's paygrade.
"Can you just come, please?" Zart's expression was a mixture of confusion as he stared back at her. Allen wasn't aware though that he had slowed his pace when he had begun hearing voices in the woods or that he had heard most of their conversation - the half internal argument between a human Zart couldn't hear or see and a voice that was octaves higher than anything he'd ever heard Allen sound like before.
Allen raised an eyebrow sensing something new about Zart as he bounced anxiously from one foot to another. When you spent as long as they had observing people you begin to learn their characteristics and Zart was starting to get nervous. He was uncomfortable, but why? Allen stayed put, forcing Zart to do the same, and watched has the Gardeners expression paled in color. Zart's mind was running a mile a minute as pieces started to fall together in his head. He recalled Allen's big eyes the day he stopped him from running in to the Maze, Allen's fragile look and high cheek bones, and now a voice that did not match his body. As each one of these clues came together for Zart it showed plainly on his face.
He was beginning to figure out their secret. "Shit." Allen muttered before storming off and leaving Zart to fend for himself in the trees.
As he walked he looked at one of the doors to the Maze and dreamed of running into the desolate area so he could be eaten by a Griever. Just to get it all over with. There was something too headstrong for that inside Allen though. A personality that was more willing to face the trauma and see what the world held on the other side. Allen headed towards the Homestead where he hoped to be met with a healthy and happy Alby. That would be the best thing that could come from today.
Climbing up to infirmary Allen could hear a few voices. They stopped at the closed door and took a deep breath, getting ready for Allen to take over completely. Zart had managed to follow and watched from the bottom of the stairs with interest. The building blocks to solving the puzzle were finally coming together. He had heard enough about Allen's story and seen plenty of things during his time here in the Glade to know that Allen had been through hell and back, there was no denying it. He had a million questions going through his head. There was one question inparticular forming on his tongue that he couldn't quite figure out yet. Zart watched as Allen squared her shoulders and twisted his neck to one side to crack it before opening the door in to the infirmary.
Allen put a hand on the doorknob and pushed it open. Inside were a collection of people. Clint and Jeff were surrounding Alby, who was sitting on the edge of his bed looking shaken. The new girl sat cross legged on her bed with Thomas hovering close by. Newt leaned up against the wall watching over the group.
When everyone noticed Allen the atmosphere changed. Newt pushed off the wall and crossed his arms, not entirely sure what to do with himself. Clint and Jeff rolled their eyes and stepped away from Alby, who seemed too lost in thought to pay attention to anyone, and the girl hopped off her bed, fist clenched, ready to fight again. Allen stepped in the room a few feet which gave Zart just enough room to sneak in.
"Thanks for gettin' him," Newt said to Zart, "Al," he nodded as a hello.
Allen looked over his shoulder and glared at Zart before turning back to face the group.
Without acknowledging Newt, he walked over to Alby. Allen hunched down in front of their once mighty leader and grabbed on to his face. Alby looked just like Gally had when he woke up. Confused as to where he was or where he had been. Allen shook Alby's face lightly, as if saying 'look at me.'
He did, but not with the same strong and sure eyes Alby normally had. They were distant and dejected. Alby recognized Allen and opened his mouth to say something but an overwhelming amount of emotion washed over him. He dropped his head, still cradled in Allen's hands, and began to sob.
Allen wanted to drop Alby's face and step away from the crying boy. He stood frozen in position as Alby shed tears and gripped on to Allen's hands. All he wanted to do was scold the boy for being so emotional. Even the girl inside Allen agreed that Alby didn't need to be coddled, he just needed to be shaken out of it. He couldn't talk, not now, not after Zart. Allen looked around the room pleading for help but everyone else were preoccupied with their feet and pretending to not hear their leader's sobs.
Allen kept a tight grip on him and refocused Alby. Gally had done the same thing. Every shank that lived through the changing did the same thing; woke up, stared off in to space, was brought back around, cried, said they remembered the past, got angry, then chose a new personality. There was no time for this. Allen took one of his hands away from Alby and swung it back before and landing it perfectly across Alby's cheek. The slap rang out in the room.
The boys in the room averted their eyes from Alby. Shuffling uncomfortably as he committed taboo in the male culture.
Allen brought his thumbs up Alby's cheeks and wiped away the tears for him.
Alby leaned in to the touch and let a shuttering breath out. "Allen," he said weakly, "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I'm so sorry."
There was no sense to it. Alby had done nothing wrong to Allen and his apologies fell on deaf ears. A feeble smile tried to comfort Alby. All Allen could do was shake his head, politely throwing away the conversation. Allen felt the boy's forehead for a temperature than looked at him and made sure Alby was watching when he pinched his own arm and tapped his forehead.
He moved for the next half an hour as if no one was there in the room with him. Grabbing a cloth and wetting it, fresh bandages on, antibiotics, a needle, thread, and a pair of scissors, Allen began to work over Alby. He cut off the old bloodied gauze to reveal a healing stab wound on his side. The black veins were nearly gone, only a few thin ones remained indicating that an infection had never set in. Allen sewed the cut closed now that it had time to breathe and release any toxins the Griever had shoved in to Alby. He put antibiotics on it before casually putting the ointment into his back pocket and re-bandaged it, then moved on to Alby's forehead. The stitches there were still holding perfectly, so Allen just washed up the gash where Minho had hit him unconscious and left it alone.
By the time he was done Alby had simmered down and just watched Allen move around with a blank expression. Numb to most of what was happening around him.
Allen thumped his chest three times with a closed fist, signaling the end of his work. Clint and Jeff were leaning up against the counter top on the far side throwing mean looks at Allen as he took a seat next to Alby and began a longer series of hand signals.
He held his hand flat first before moving it across an invisible table top then took two fingers and pointed them at Alby's eyes and finished by taking his free hand and holding three fingers over his own lips. Allen was asking him what he remembered from being stung. They always remembered something.
Alby didn't look away from Allen this time. "Bits and pieces," he said with a frail voice, "I need to talk to Thomas, but Allen I gotta tell you -,"
Allen moved away from Alby and nodded at Thomas to come over. He moved to the side of the room, opposite of Teresa, with a fair distance between Clint, Jeff, and Newt. Zart had been watching her take care of Alby in an unmoving silence. When Allen retreated to the side of the room he absent-mindedly moved to stand next to her, receiving only a scowl.
"Could you look at Teresa too?" Thomas asked politely before taking a seat next to Alby.
Allen was confused for a moment as to why Thomas was looking at him when he asked the question. He nodded over to Clint and Jeff who seemed more than eager to fulfill the request.
"No offense," Thomas said to the Med-Jacks without having to finish the statement. Everyone in the room could see they were too eager to touch a girl and Thomas clearly felt more comfortable asking Allen, who showed no interest at all, to look at Teresa.
Allen shook his head, no. Teresa seemed to be pleased with how unwilling Allen was to be near her. She nodded her head in support for Allen's decision.
Thomas looked over his shoulder at her, "you said your head hurt."
"I'm fine, Thomas. Just groggy."
Thomas looked to Allen for any sort of indication that Teresa wasn't ok, but the Allen simply shrugged. He had done enough favors for Thomas already. Touching his girlfriend wasn't going to be next. Allen thumped his chest before crossing his arms.
"What's that mean?" Teresa asked, "Why doesn't he talk?" She looked directly at Allen when she spoke, almost challenging him to rebuttal.
"It means you're fine,"
Allen smirked, he was right when he assumed that Thomas was smart. Usually it took people ages to pick up his hand signals.
Thomas dropped the conversation and sat next to Alby to discuss what he had dreamed about. He had seen Thomas, Alby claimed. He knew Thomas from before. From the past. Alby's tone was so absolute that no one could doubt what he was saying.
"You gotta do it, Thomas." Alby said, "You're the one that's gonna get us out of here."
Allen leaned against the wall, ready to hear more about Alby's testimony, when the door to the infirmary flew open and startled everyone.
"The Maze!" Minho exclaimed suddenly. He heaved in a deep gulp of air from running over, "It ain't closin'."
B.T.
Greg was the one that pulled Allen away. His feet, shins, and hands were stained with George's blood. Smears of red on Allen's shirt and face were from him trying to wipe off his hands or push his hair out of his eyes. He was in shock. All of them were.
"Come on, Al'," Greg nudged his twin. When he didn't move away from George's body, Greg took both hands and gracefully hoisted Allen up like a child and away from the boy. He didn't put up a fight. As Greg pulled him further from the body the better Allen began to understand what had happened. First he acknowledged that George's lower half was missing, then he was able to accept the blood still oozing out and across the Glade. The further Greg took him away from George the more he was able to accept his death.
George was dead and she was covered in his blood.
Allen planted her feet and bent over, vomiting what little food she had in her stomach.
"You're alright." Greg tried to soothe her. "I'll get you cleaned up." He patted her back and brought both of them to stand next to the rest of the Gladers for a moment.
Alby had an expression of pure agony written all over his face. His arms hung limp by his side in disbelief. He was processing what had just happened. So was Minho. With the rope still loosely held in his hand, Minho's subconscious was able to understand what had happened faster than his waking mind and small tears were beginning to fall down his cheeks. Gally stood dumbstruck, his mouth slightly agape.
"Allen and I will be by the showers." Greg said simply. In all of this, he was the only one who was able to function. No one responded in any way to Greg's statement. He was happy that he had an excuse to remove themselves from the scene.
Greg had tucked a shoulder under one of Allen's arms to help her stand. The twins began to move as one. He had to drag her a times, but when Allen's feet did work, they stepped in time with each other.
Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot.
Her head lulled to one side as she tried to figure out just exactly how George had died. The 'swoosh' sound hadn't happened yesterday. It dawned on Allen very slowly that whatever killed George hadn't been there during their trial run. It could have been an animal, she supposed, but the cut wouldn't have been so clean. It would have looked like bite or claw marks if it was an animal. No, it was a blade and a large blade at that.
Allen lifted her head to look up at Greg. His face was set in stone as he marched them closer and closer to the wash area. "They're watching us," she whispered to him.
Greg glanced back at her, "I know. Minho and I, we-," he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. "We've been seeing these rats or somethin' more and more in the Maze. They have cameras for eyes."
The twins couldn't read each other's minds, but they were able to understand the direction in which they were going to speak occasionally. Greg knew his twin wasn't crazy and wasn't worried telling Allen about the rats with camera eyes either. The twins were one in the same. He knew what she was going to say and she knew how he would react.
"They killed George," she started, "they -,"
"-built whatever was down there last night so we couldn't go any lower."
"We have to tell Alby."
Greg took a deep breath and came to a stop right outside the showers. "That's not going to do any good, not now, anyways." He reached in to the closest stall and turned on the faucet. "That's not the way out, now we know. Let's leave it at that until things settle down."
The twins fell silent as Allen undressed and got into the shower. The water ran red as it washed off her body and down into the drain. She stared blankly at the poorly propped up privacy wall, too caught up in the event to pay attention. Greg's hand reached in around the corner after a few minutes and shut the water off for her.
Allen wiped the water from her body and began to meticulously rewrap her chest bindings with the same ropes and cloth that she had used before. She noted that the skin had become enflamed and seemed to swell after being exposed to the air. They would have to address the issue at a later date.
She stepped out from around the corner fully dressed and clean.
"You going to be ok?"
Allen gave a wide-eyed look up at her brother. "I think it's Alby that we'll need to worry about first."
The twins made there way back to the center of the Glade where little had been accomplished. Alby had stepped forward and managed to unknot the rope around George's torso but that seemed to be it. Blood stuck to the bottom and sides of his shoes.
Greg waited a moment to be addressed, just so Alby knew that he wasn't trying to overstep any boundaries of authority, but when nothing came from their new leader's mouth, Greg took initiative. "We should bury him." He said simply.
Minho glanced at Greg acknowledging his words but offered no response.
Alby turned from where he stood a few feet away from George's body. "Where?"
He sighed, "we could do it next to the Homestead?"
Gally flinched at the idea, "I ain't sleepin' next to bones." The response came off callous, but everyone seemed agreed with him. Even Allen didn't want to sleep so close to George's grave.
"I don't know, over there?" Greg pointed out toward the center of the Glade which would later be filled with hammocks and mats for boys to sleep on.
Alby shook his head, not liking the idea of George being so visible after death. He didn't want to look his best friends resting place every day and be reminded of this mistake. "We'll bury him in the trees. Make him a real nice headstone and carve his name in."
The decision was final without any discussion. Alby squared his shoulders and slowly started to come back to himself. "Minho, you and Gally take the Greenie to the woods and start diggin' the hole. Needs to be deep." He swallowed a lump in the back of his dry throat. "Greg, Allen and I are going to bring George over."
Minho rolled his head back, silently preying that this ends quickly, then turned and left the group to find shovels. Allen had never seen him so quiet.
Gally would have followed if he wasn't preoccupied with finding Newt. "Where is that shuck-face?"
Welcoming the distraction Alby, Gally, Greg, and Allen all noticed that the Greenie was in fact missing. "He was here, wasn't he?" Alby asked, double checking to make sure.
"Yeah, he was next to me the whole time." Gally replied. "Piece of klunk must've run off when we pulled George up."
Allen nudged Greg in the arm. Gally was going to take his frustration out on the new kid if one of them didn't step in soon. Greg picked up on the warning and took lead. "I'll go find him. Al' and you will be able to take George over on your own, Alby. I'll bring the Greenie to the woods."
The fire that was beginning to burn behind Gally's eyes simmered quickly. He nodded his head and left to follow Minho.
Greg left Allen with Alby and headed off to find the Greenie. There weren't many places to hide here and with the Maze walls having closed half an hour ago, he doubted that Newt had been able to make it out of the Glade. The nearest landmark was the Homestead, so Greg started there.
As Greg walked he thought about the Glade. In a weird depressing way, Greg liked it here. Allen was safe and he and Minho got along well. There weren't any of the doctors he could remember and being able to run in the Maze during the day was one of the most freeing experiences he's ever had – even if they were all trapped here. The grass was green. You could sleep out under the sky if you wanted. There was food and water and plenty of room to roam. A few tears escaped Greg's eyes as he got closer to the Homestead. It wouldn't be the same here without George. But what Greg was truly upset about was knowing that George would never be able to get out of here. He knew nothing but this Maze and he would never know anything else. Greg wiped his eyes aggressively trying to push down the thought. The Glade wasn't an awful place to be in, but it would a horrible place to die.
As he crossed the threshold in to the Homestead, Greg cleared his throat and searched for the Greenie. He looked upstairs and downstairs, out back and behind the wood stock piles. When there were no signs of him, Greg went to the Kitchen. It was a small shack with a few stoves and counter space on all four walls. He pushed the door open and immediately saw the Greenie huddled in the corner on the ground. The kid had his head buried in his knees.
"Hey -," Greg said softly.
Newt brought his head up calmly and gazed back. A shiver ran down Greg's back and goosebumps rose on his arms. The Greenie's eyes were dead and void of all emotion. There was no color left in his face and the look he was giving just felt vacant.
"We're never getting out of here, are we?" His voice matched his eyes. Dead. All hope that had flared up inside of Newt when he had learned about a possible escape plan had burst into flames and shattered all possibilities. He would be stuck here for the rest of his life, he just knew it. A desperation ached in Newt's belly to get out and find whoever it was that he was missing, but now that there was no way out, that desperation would eat him alive.
Greg was spooked just looking at him. He wanted to say something to calm Newt, but it felt like he was face to face with an cornered dog. Instead of stepping in to help the Greenie, Greg stepped backwards out of the kitchen and let the door close.
Two weeks in a row!
Three more Chapters!
I can do it!
All of your comments, follows and favorites have reminded me that I need to finish this so thank you. I'm glad everyone enjoys Allen as much as I enjoy writing her story.