Scrubbed
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to James Dashner, Dell Publishing, Wes Ball, TSG Entertainment, Temple Hill Productions, The Gotham Group, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work. Any similarities to other fanfiction stories are completely coincidental.
"You can call me Mr. Janson," The man decided to introduce himself after he was certain that he could hear the footsteps of the youths scurrying to catch up with him. He led them through the large warehouse that protected his facility, passing soldiers and workers alike that were putting in an equal amount of effort to protect the base from the onslaught of the creatures outside. He nearly held his breath as they rapidly approached the safe doors that would hopefully lock them all in for good one last time. "I run this place – it is a sanctuary safe from the horrors of the outside world. You should all think of it as a safe place, kinda of a hall between homes..."
"You mean you're taking us home?" Newt spoke up first, frowning as they passed by a large group of welders who looked as though they were fixing a machine gun. His ears had perked up at the word, as he had strived to discover where he had come from and what had become of it.
"A home of sorts," The man named Janson turned to look at him oddly as they walked. "Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of wherever you came from. But we do have a place for you; a refuge outside the scorch where WCKD will never find you again. How does that sound?"
There was a pregnant pause as the Gladers continued to follow Janson, looking between each other and figuring that this was too good to be true. Inka shared a concerned glance with Newt, still not trusting the words Janson was saying and frowning when she heard the word 'scorch'. Ava Paige had said the same word before they had been thrown in the helicopter – so this must have meant that the information she had given to them was true. The world was in ruins – any remaining life as it had been before was gone.
"Why are you helping us?" Minho questioned, guessing that this was some sort of division of the military that had been tasked with handling survivors but assuming that they did not want to touch any of the test subjects that had been associated with WCKD. "What about the government?"
"All gone. Let's just say that the world out there is in a rather precarious situation," Janson replied, smirking slightly. "We're all hanging on by a very thin thread...the fact that you kids can survive the flare virus makes you the best chance of humanity's continued survival. Unfortunately, it also makes you a target - as no doubt by now you've noticed."
The group tried to take in what the rat-like man was saying, remembering Dr. Paige's words from earlier where she had explained the flare virus and what it could do to the body. What did it mean that they were immune? And how? Had this been the reason for their capture the entire time? They did not have time to ask, because Janson was speaking again and they had reached a large door covered in hazard lining. Alarms sat on either side of it as well as a keypad and a small window, making it appear to be the safest place in the entire facility.
"Beyond this door lies the beginning of your new lives," Janson stated as he swiped his key card on the pad and watched it light up green, then turned around to watch the group's faces when they spotted the long white hallway ahead of them. "But first things first...let's do something about that smell."
The Gladers looked at each other with wide eyes, understanding his double meaning that spoke about their awful scent – being thrown down a Griever hole and cooped up in a smelly helicopter was not the best combination of events for a sweet smell – but did not expect what he would lead them to. After following the rat man through several corridors that were equally as white as the walls Inka had remembered seeing on her monitor hours ago, they reached a sub-level of the warehouse that was clearly redesigned for living quarters. Soldiers bustled around these lower levels as well, only accompanied by what seemed to be nurses clad in light blue uniforms. What would have previously been a military base filled with rows of beds and boxes for uniforms was remade into a fortified refugee camp, it seemed, and the Gladers were more than happy to see that Janson was leading them towards a door clearly labeled 'shower area'.
"Get cleaned up," Janson held the door open, beckoning the group inside where they could spot several stalls divided by large walls. "We'll get you some fresh clothes."
Frypan was the first through the door, laughing in disbelief as more rows of showers were unveiled before his eyes. The rest of the group soon followed suit, Newt and Inka bringing up the back as they looked between each other with raised eyebrows. It was clear that the boys were going to be on the right hand side of the wall, as Teresa had already broken left and reached for one of the multiple towels that were sitting in large white bins to either side of the showers. Newt and Inka followed suit, sparing one more uncertain glance between each other as they veered opposite ways to clean themselves.
Winston and Minho were the first to let out satisfied groans as the spray of hot water hit their skin, noises echoing in the large room coated in ceramic that was heating up rapidly. All of the group's blood and grime that had accumulated over the last day or two went washing down the drain, and the Gladers were even happier to find real razors and soap bars sitting on the walls next to them. Teresa and Inka took the most advantage of this, relishing in the hot water themselves and cleaning their hair thoroughly as well. Inka, who was trying to wash off the feeling of being watched as well as the layers of dirt that was caking up her skin, bit her lip as she tried not to think of the image of herself being mauled by Grievers in the fake maze. How long had she been captured for? Exactly how many of the trials she had seen on the screen had she been subjected to?
She tried to push the questions out of her mind and remind herself that all that mattered was her current position in life, but upon sweeping her hand down her face in efforts to clear the dirt there as well her hand brushed against her scars. It only took a minute for small tears to start rolling down her cheeks, chest swelling as she tried not to think of what could have possibly been done to her. There had to be a reason for her suffering – as well as the suffering of each person in the room at the moment – and it was going to have to be a better reason than the fact that they were the only immune survivors on the planet. Everything seemed so unfair at the moment that it was overwhelming to think of how much pity Inka held for herself and the rest of the Gladers. The girl cradled her small frame, tracing the outline of her rib cage and trembling slightly as more tears erupted from her eyes. She stared down at her legs, too thin for comfort, and watched as blood from injuries she had not been aware of swept down the drain alongside her heavy tears.
"Inka?" Teresa's voice from the stall beside her brought the British girl out of her thoughts, and she quickly gulped back a sob before responding.
"Yeah?"
"Are you done?"
"Not yet." Inka shook her head even though Teresa could not see it, forcing herself to contain any remaining tears as she shaved the hair off her body she assumed her past self would have wanted to remove. As soon as the last piece of dirt was scrubbed clean and she had stopped the flow of tears she shut off the water and quickly reached for the towel hung on the small hook on the wall, wrapping herself in it and stepping outside the cubicle. She was met with Teresa, looking equally as bare and shivery. They both looked back longingly towards the stalls they had just exited out of, remembering the warmth and comfort of cleanliness and hot water, before rejoining the boys at the front of the room and trying not to share awkward glances at their toweled bodies whilst they all waited for someone to deliver them clothing. Newt took this time to lean against the wall and look over Inka curiously, noticing the way her collarbones poked out from underneath her skin and how the only plump features on her body was her lips, the soft swell of her breasts and the distinct curves despite her very thin frame. Her arms and legs, topped with tiny toes and fingers that looked like spiders legs, twisted together in efforts to keep her warm whilst the group waited in a calm silence.
He wanted very badly to envelop her in his arms and keep her warm for the moment, only wishing to comfort her and assure her that everything was going to be alright, but he would not have the time to because before he knew it there were nurses streaming through the door and handing each member of the group a pair of clothing. Newt received his own change of clothes, eyeing the workers suspiciously as they exited the room in a routing fashion and gave everyone time to change as if they had repeated this process millions of times before. This place seemed too surreal – too good to be true and a little bit too excited to welcome them into their own ranks after somehow knowing that they were immune test subjects of WCKD. Newt was not the only one who sensed something bigger was going on here, but he let the feeling lay dormant for awhile and continued to assess the place.
After everyone had been changed and been given new footwear that did not smell like Griever slime, a nurse escorted them deeper into the facility where the walls grew to be a shiny silver and the floors were polished clean. They stepped through a door that lead to a medical area, and were soon swamped with droves of doctors clad in white. All of the group was separated at that point, having been assigned their own separate medical professionals and spots in the hospital-like area. Newt was placed just a curtain away from Inka, and both looked rather upset to be separated from each other yet again but comforted once they realized they could spot each other through the cracks of the cloth. It did not help that Inka's doctor was taking every possible measurement of her however, making her attention refocus on the sphygmomanometer as it swelled up on her arm and displayed her blood pressure on a screen Newt could not see. This process repeated itself with him and all of the Gladers, followed by visual checks, stitches for some, and then blood tests.
Newt could make out Inka's noises of protest when her doctor announced that she needed to draw blood, although he was distracted when he realized that his own doctor was creating a syringe of sorts, draining several vials into it before preparing it for injection by removing the plastic protective tip.
"Uh..." Newt gazed unsteadily at the large object, extremely on edge and very suspicious of the fact that the first thing these saviors were doing was injecting them with things. "What is that?"
"A little cocktail," The doctor joked, sitting on the stool in front of Newt as he pulled the boy's arm closer. "Calcium, folate, vitamins A through Z – pretty much everything you've been deprived of out there. Won't hurt a bit – just relax."
Newt clenched his jaw as he looked up at the doctor, then back towards Inka who's doctor had settled on not drawing blood for the moment. He grimaced as the large syringe implanted itself in his skin, then drew a heavy breath when he felt the doctor press the trigger on the object and release the contents of the 'cocktail' into his bloodstream. Hopefully it would make his lightheartedness go away – as it had been something that had been bothering him for the past several hours even after having eaten. He chalked it up to the lack of vitamins and sent a small glare towards his doctor who had claimed it would be painless. Newt was not five – he understood the concept of pain, and he would have appreciated honesty from the medical professional.
Inka, on the other hand, was doing a lot worse at dealing with the fact that she needed an injection.
"No!" She immediately retaliated from the doctor's grasp at the sight of the needle, nearly gagging at the sight of it and widening her eyes. "No – get away!"
Newt's head snapped towards the noise of her complaints, and he rose up out of his own chair where he had been told to wait to make his way over to her curtained area next several feet away. He was greeted with the sight of her pushing against her doctor's hands, unwilling to comply as the medical professional tried to explain what exactly was in the syringe and why it was not going to harm her.
"Stop," She ordered the man, struggling even further and going so far as to leap out of her chair and back away from the syringe Newt had just been inserted with, grabbing scissors for protection in the process. "I don't want it – get away!"
"Inka!" Newt called, frowning at the doctor who was still trying to coax her into calming down and release the scissors. "Calm, alright? Calm."
"I don't want it," Inka explained to Newt, reaching for him as soon as he got to her and seemingly relieved to see him there. She then turned her gaze back towards the doctor, frowning deeply and breathing heavily as she held out the scissors towards him. "Please, stop."
Newt turned to the doctor, ignoring the leap his heart made when she clutched at his arm as though he was the only sure thing in the world at the moment and instead glared towards the perpetrator of the situation.
"She's deprived – she's already underweight and her blood pressure is low," The doctor explained to both of them, pointing towards a screen that showed her statistics - one set of numbers reading 80/50 - just like her monitor had at the ruined WCKD facility. "She needs vitamins. This isn't going to hurt her – she's at risk of cardiac arrest as it is. She needs nutrients. We don't have to do the blood tests, but she needs this or she's not going to cope well."
Newt's worried gaze then turned to Inka, looking her up and down as if he finally accepted just how small the girl was. Her underweight frame trembled slightly, jaw clenching as she looked up at her British counterpart as if she had been aware of this information all along but was unwilling to inform him of it. Her furious grey eyes, looking as though they were a storm ready to destroy everything it it's path, met her doctor's once more.
"No." She repeated, even more firmly this time as her clasp on Newt's arm tightened and the arm holding the scissors tense visibly.
"'At risk of cardiac arrest'?" The boy she clung to quoted the doctor, looking between the two as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Inka..."
She made a face, as if her own mind was battling it out inside her skull but shaking her head tightly once more when the doctor tried to approach her.
"Hey!" Newt held a protective arm out, ceasing the movements of the medical professional and turning to Inka – who was wide eyed now as she accepted the reality that she was very much in danger if she did not get this injection. "Listen to me – you don't have to do the blood tests, but they've got to give you one prick – just one. It doesn't hurt that much; I promise."
His sincere tone was low, washing over her as he began to rub her shoulder blades - an action he that he knew allowed her to breathe deeper. Her throat constricted as she thought of the large needle, making her gulp loudly as she locked eyes with Newt – who did his best to speak to her through a reassuring facial expression – before she drew a shaky breath and forced herself to take a step forward. She knew that her body was weak; she could feel it and she also knew that the stress was literally killing her. To be trapped in such a violent world was beyond terrifying, and the fact that she had no idea what was coming next upset her greatly. Back in the Glade, the only objective had been to get out and nothing else. Here, where the ruined world was at their fingertips, it was less clear what the plan of action was going to be. Still, Inka convinced herself for the time being that perhaps the doctors were not all bad, and took two more weary steps back into the chair where she sat very alert. The doctor eyed her cautiously, making eye contact with Newt who was equally as concerned that she was going to break out into panic once more and succumb to her emotions.
"Inka," Newt cleared his throat, eyeing her hand that still gripped the scissors tentatively. "Could you give me those, love?"
She looked up at him in confusion for a moment, seemingly having forgotten about the potential weapon she held in her left hand, before looking down at the polished silver and giving it to her closest friend.
As soon as Newt had placed the scissors back on the counter, the trained professional decided to take a leap of faith, and after sterilizing the needle once more he wiped her arm down with lidocaine to prepare her. The needle was lowered into her vein moments later, and under the scrutinizing gaze of both the doctor and Newt the British girl turned her head to the side whilst trying to calm her raging stomach that was threatening to expel its contents all over the shiny floor. It took a moment for all of the vitamins to enter her bloodstream, but the doctor tried not to move the syringe around too much as he squeezed every last drop of the 'cocktail' inside of her.
"There we go," He pulled the sharp object out of her arm after a couple more seconds, then quickly pushed himself back in the stool he had been sitting on and watched as Inka gagged.
Newt quickly caught the girl who was falling forward in her seat, supporting her as she grabbed his shirt desperately and tried not to vomit all over him when her stomach finally gave up. Newt was forced to lower her onto the floor next to her pile of half digested food, terrified that she had somehow been injected with the wrong substances, and do nothing but pat her back as her heaves went on.
"What's wrong with her?" Newt turned to the doctor who was rapidly applying a pair of new gloves, a grimace coating his features.
"Just nausea from the needle and mild dehydration," The doctor assured, helping Newt move her towards the garbage can where her stomach gave out again and she gripped onto the plastic of the bin for support. "As long as she gets water and rests she'll be all right. You kids need to stay here until you're give the all clear to join the others."
With that, the doctor left his post, taking with him Inka's information he had written down on a file folder and leaving Newt to question what he had meant by 'others' as he dealt with his poor sick friend. A nurse came by to check on them every once in awhile, leaving Newt to remain on the lookout for the rest of their friends and noticing that each Glader was accounted for besides Thomas and Teresa. Inka only vomited once more in the time span it took for someone to come and direct the waiting group to the next stage of this new experience, leaning on Newt's body sitting next to her on the ground when her body sagged in exhaustion.
"Thank you Newt," She muttered, not knowing what else to say in the moment as she was truly thankful that the boy had helped her through so much of the journey they had made so far.
She did not receive a response from the boy who was all too happy to hear his name slip from her lips at the moment however, because before they knew it more soldiers were teaming through the doors on either side of the huge medical room and barking for the newly arrived group to follow them once more. The Gladers reunited from each of their respective examination pods, reconvening into one large group and looking over each other to make sure that everyone was all right. Very little words were shared besides the question of where Thomas and Teresa were, and even those quieted when the sergeant leading the team that was escorting them stated not to worry about their friends. Minho frowned at the mention that they were in 'good hands', not trusting the fact that they had already been separated from several of their own so soon upon their arrival to this mysterious base.
"Ground rules are no fighting," The sergeant explained to them as they neared a louder section of a hallway after a couple turns. "Lights out at ten and no funny business."
"What are we, six?" Frypan muttered in retaliation. "What is this?"
He shared a strange look with Minho, who seemed equally as unimpressed with what the sergeant in command was describing to them, before both were distracted by the group's arrival into what seemed to be a cafeteria. What they saw inside made each survivor stop in their tracks and stare, dumbfounded by the sheer numbers of the people that sat inside.
It was loaded with kids who looked exactly like them.
Youth of all colors, sizes and genders filled the tables, eating from trays filled with the same food the group had been faced with before they had showered. The soldiers that had come in with the group left them to fend for their own, watching from close by as they integrated themselves into the large cafeteria and eventually selected a table that they were beckoned towards. A large African-American boy welcomed them, asking if they were new intakes before inviting them to sit. His eyes fell over the short haired girl standing closer to the golden haired boy than any of the other new arrivals, eyes flitting around the cafeteria at a high speed as if she was trying to count the total number of people here. Her closest friend, as it seemed, was quickly able to distract her and get her to sit down whilst he followed suit.
"What is this place?" Minho immediately questioned, looking around himself at all of the people.
"Refuge," The boy responded. "We're survivors – all of us. They bring in new kids every day almost; all from different mazes."
There was a beat of silence.
"What?" Minho tried to clarify, the rest of the group too shocked – including Inka who had snapped out of her wonky state to fixate her eyes on the boy revealing answers – to ask questions at the moment. They hadn't been the only maze?
"You guys aren't the only ones," Their informer continued, sensing that no one had explained to them what was going on yet and taking it upon himself. "WCKD did this to a lot of people and Mr. Janson is helping us out, I guess. This base is huge – they use it to stay safe from outside."
It took a moment for the ragtag bunch of survivors to realize that all of these people sitting around them were Gladers themselves – people who had suffered just as much as they had for God knew how long. It made each of their hearts swell as they looked around in partial amazement and partial horror, relieved that so many had gotten out yet terrorized by the fact that WCKD had been able to control so many people at the same time.
"How did you get out?" Was the next question fired from Minho's lips, the rest of the group watching the boy across from them intently as he explained that they had reached the WCKD facility just the same as the new arrivals.
It took a little while for their new friend to explain the full story, starting from the beginning when they had killed a Griever that had attacked their encampment – although they called them beasts instead of Grievers – and discovered the homing device inside. They had not traveled inside the maze for years after their population had decreased dramatically because of repeated stings and boys being locked down in the maze overnight, but two out of their group had made it out and survived.
"There was this big loud explosion," The African-American boy continued his story, looking towards Thomas as he finally joined the table and was welcomed by his fellow companions. "Then these guys came in and started shooting up the place."
"It was intense," The boy in the striped shirt beside him highlighted the recollection of events with another spoonful of food. "They pulled us out of the maze and brought us here."
"What about the rest?" Newt gave Inka's wrist a squeeze as her fist clenched on the table, sensing that she was growing agitated. "The people left behind in the maze – what happened to them?"
"I don't know," He shrugged. "I guess WCKD still has 'em."
There was a beat of silence as Thomas and Newt shared an uneven glance.
"How long have you guys been here?" The former asked, having been correct in his assumptions that Inka was growing uncomfortable and pushed himself closer to her in efforts to calm her down. She relaxed a bit at that, feeling better once their sides were connected all the way down to the sides of their shoes, and was able to let out a little bit of a relieved huff.
"Not long – just a day or two. The kid over there though," The boy responded, shrugging as he took more food into his mouth and pointed towards a far table where a thin boy with a hood over his head sat alone. "He's been here the longest – almost a week. He came out of a maze filled with girls."
"Really?" Minho seemed disbelieving, but the entire table turned to look at the boy anyway as if he would answer their question from ten meters away.
"Some guys have all the luck," The original boy shrugged as Newt and Inka locked eyes once more. They had developed a small system of communication thus far, recognizing each other's facial features and automatically meeting each other's gaze when either of them was uncertain about something. It had been working fairly well to reassure both of them when they needed to communicate subtly about something, although as soon as Janson walked through the far door of the cafeteria their attention was directed towards him.
"Good evening gentlemen; ladies..." He boomed, making sure that his voice extended to all corners of the room to catch the attention of each and every survivor. "You all know how this works; if you hear your name called, rise in an orderly fashion and join my colleagues behind me. They will escort you to the Eastern wing where your new lives are about to begin."
There were claps among the groups of youth, although the new arrivals only frowned slightly. What did he mean by new life? Were they going to be deprived of information yet again? Once more, they did not even have the chance to discuss the questions between themselves because Janson was lifting a sheet on his clipboard and the room was bristling with anticipation for something the new survivors did not understand. They watched in avid fascination as all of the survivors around them smiled at each other, eyes shining in delight whilst they shifted restlessly in their seats.
"Connor," Janson began to list off, and Newt could feel Inka jerk next to him as a boy high-fived his friend several seats away.
"Adelen...Justin...Peter...Allison...Squiggy," Laughs could be heard throughout the cafeteria at the boy's peculiar name, and Inka found herself briefly wondering how the kids around her would react to hearing her name before Janson interrupted her musings and told the rowdy students to quiet themselves. "Settle down – Franklin...and Abigail."
He slammed the clipboard shut as the last name was called out, each survivor who's name was called getting praise from their friends and eagerly joining Janson's coworkers. Inka allowed her eyebrows to pull together for what seemed to be the millionth time that day, looking towards the rat-like man with distrust. For what it was worth, she did not feel safe in this facility whatsoever, and felt even worse when she realized that he was not going to explain exactly where he was taking all of these children. They were stuck wondering yet again, and that was a game Inka was sick of playing.
"Now now – don't get discouraged," The man in question tutted, spinning around on his heel to regard each and every face in the cafeteria equally. "If I could take more I would – but there is always tomorrow. Your time will come. Now eat up!"
He backed out of the room with the line of students he had called in tow, each of them practically teaming with happiness and bouncing in their shoes. There were dull claps among the rest of the cafeteria, obviously bitter that they had not been chosen that night, before the bustling room filled with chatter once more.
"Where are they going?" Inka found herself asking before she could stop herself, craning her neck to try and see out the door that Janson was leading the group.
"Far from here," The boy turned in his seat once more, hunching down as he looked between the five people sitting in front of him. "Lucky bastards."
"They say it's a safe place," The boy in the striped shirt explained. "They can only take in a couple people at a time."
"A safe place?" Newt questioned, fully realizing that his hand was still tight around Inka's wrist and that she had not made a motion to move it.
"Hey..." Thomas suddenly interrupted as he spotted something, and distracted the group as he rose from the table only to head in the direction of the paneled windows that revealed the only other female in the newest group of survivals following a doctor down the blue corridor. "Teresa!"
When the girl would not turn and look at Thomas, he shouted her name again and was rewarded with one last glance before she completely disappeared from view. The other survivors did not rise from their seats, instead regarding the incident from afar and watching as Thomas questioned one of the security guards about Teresa's well being. Thomas did not notice the eyes of a very curious boy that he had stared at himself minutes prior to this event, and merely concentrated his efforts on trying to drill the security guard on what was happening to Teresa. The group back at the table could not hear the guard's response, nor what Thomas had to say on the subject matter after his response, but after the outbreak the entire cafeteria began to receive group-by-group escorts out the original exit. The walk to the sleeping pods wasn't far, and soon each group began to branch off separately as they were taken into their own rooms opened only by soldiers and covered in large metal plating.
When the newest arrivals were the last group remaining in the hallways to be escorted into their room for the night, the soldier leading them – with Frypan hot on his heels eager to hunker down for the night – opened up a door at the end of the hallway. It was then that Inka realized she would be bunking down with her fellow survivors, which comforted the girl most deeply considering she had slept around them before exiting the Glade and was not used to much else. The room was lined with a sink and some hand towels on one side of the wall, as well as a cupboard with what the group assumed to be clothing and hygienic utilities. A buzzer lay on the side of the door in case of a medical emergency or in case someone needed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, as the guard described rather gruffly, but other than that the room was used for purely sleeping and the wake up call was at nine o'clock.
"I call top bunk!" Frypan smiled as soon as he saw the rows of bunk beds lined up against the walls on either side of the room, but Minho had already claimed the one he was aiming for.
"Too slow," The oriental boy teased as he snapped his fingers towards the ex-cook who grumbled and settled for the bottom of the bunk.
"I could get used to this..." Winston smiled, patting his full stomach and crossing his legs as he lay on his own bottom bunk.
"Yeah," Newt found himself agreeing as Inka looked around the room strangely. "It's not bad."
Then, as if on cue, the door swung shut and a series of clicks followed. Six heads flipped towards the sound of the noise and almost immediately Inka went to check if the door truly had been locked behind them. She tugged on the metal hinges as hard as she could, trying both sides to see if she was pulling on the right side before huffing and accepting that it was locked with a small curse. As disconcerting as it was to be locked back into a stone box for an evening, there was nothing that the group could do. Again, they were trapped and left wondering. It was becoming a pattern.
"What did you think those guys were doing with Teresa?" Thomas questioned as soon as Inka had given up her struggle with the door.
"Well, if there's one thing I know about the women we've had the..." Newt frowned playfully as he tried to decide on a word that correctly described the boys' experiences with the two women that had joined their ranks before eventually choosing the nicer word. "Pleasure to meet in the last month or two, it's that they can take care of themselves."
Inka snorted slightly as she breezed past the two chatting boys to climb up on one of the top bunks, indicating that she had heard the comment and making Newt smile in satisfaction. She was slightly concerned about Teresa herself, but trusted the medical staff in the facility well enough to believe that they were indeed taking good care of her and would return the girl in due time. It would be silly of them to make her disappear; all of the current survivors present in the base were already on high alert – they were bound to notice and become suspicious if members of their ranks simply vanished at the hands of Janson and his men.
The British boy assured Thomas that no harm was going to come to Teresa before telling him to get some rest and clambering up the ladder into the top bunk placed beside Inka's. She situated herself on top of the covers, testing out the pillow to see if it was comfortable before laying down on it and curling into a ball. She felt most protected that way – covering her precious internal organs with the position and making sure that her back was against the wall. Newt regarded her for a moment with a small smile playing on his lips before getting comfortable himself as well, lying on his side so that their heads were closest to each other.
"Goodnight Inka," He murmured, hoping that tomorrow would yield answers he knew the group was striving for.
"Goodnight Newt," She whispered back, her mind already falling into the realm of the dream world.
'Subject five, you have ten minutes to complete the trial. Do you understand?'
The first thing Inka heard when she came to hours later was a voice that was playing in her head like a broken record, repeating information she knew was stored somewhere in the back of her subconscious and could only be accessed when dreaming. But this was different – she was having a flashback, and she knew it. It was if she was existing somewhere in between awake and dreaming; a place where it was possible to find some of the answers that she wanted to unlock so badly.
'You have ten minutes to complete the trial. You cannot leave. You must complete the trial.'
She couldn't utter a response, but there was a loud buzzer ringing in her ear making her jerk, and suddenly it was as if she was in the maze again. Except this memory was nothing but white walls – white walls surrounding her and enveloping her in their cold embrace. They were the same white walls she had seen on her screen – the walls she recognized the infrastructure from her most recent encounter in real life. They were moving just the same and the sounds of life were just the same; bugs buzzing in her ears and foliage hanging down the sides of the structures. She did not take into account, however, that the ringing in between her ears was much louder and stronger than any noise in the maze. Then, out of nowhere, she was running again; running for her life and flying by corridors faster than she could ever imagine herself to go. She could hear the horrible, familiar sounds of the Grievers behind her and all their slimy glory, hissing and screeching as they clambered down the corridors behind in. Her breath increased and her speed picked up, although she could not feel sweat forming on her brow as it was supposed to naturally do. She did not feel the wind in her face or the warmth of the rare strands of sunlight breaching through the real maze walls that hit her skin, nor could she hear the beats of Minho's feet running alongside her. She was alone, but this was not the first time she had performed this exercise.
Suddenly, she was grasped by a large appendage and swept backwards, her feet falling out from under her. Although she let out many cries and screams of help, no voice responded to her and she was dragged backwards towards the beasts that were chasing her. She tried to struggle and squirm against the creature's hold, managing to kick one of it's mechanical legs away so that she could slide beneath it. Unfortunately, the creature chose that moment to shift backwards to try and find where she had crawled to, and the movements of it's gruesome body caused the various needles and spikes it was lined with to collide with Inka's face. The girl screamed in pain and slammed her eyes shut as a form of defense, kicking whatever part of the creature she could whilst partially blinded and trying to ignore the immense pain that came with the large injuries on her face. Her body seemed to go numb with shock as she fought her way out from under the creature, taking off in a dead sprint towards a large open area that she could make out and understanding that she needed to make it to the checkpoint in time for the trial to be complete. She burst past the contrasting red line painted on the floor as soon as the buzzer clicked, the creature letting out a shriek of disappointment as soon as it discovered that it would not get its hands on her when a large wall slammed down in front of it. She turned the other way, expecting to find a reward or a passageway of some sort for surviving, but was only greeted with large black combat soldiers donned in black that wielded assault rifles and a large syringe of some sort. No matter how much she backed away or tried to slither from their hands, they grew closer and more plentiful by the second and she knew she was completely cornered.
Inka gave one final scream of horror before they grasped her and shoved the needle into her neck.
And then suddenly she was awake, gasping for air as if she was taking her first breaths all over again. The British boy who had been sleeping close to her woke with a start as well, immediately reacting to her sudden panic by grasping her shoulders and shaking them to try and get her attention. She had no idea what time it was and experienced a certain disorientation as well as a ringing in her ears for a moment before remembering where the group had been cooped up in for the night. She could feel Newt grasping her face that had gone numb and her eyes connected with his as she panted in the dark, reaching up to grasp one of his wrists to show that she was no longer in immediate panic mode. The ringing in her ears faded in seconds and she could hear Newt murmuring questions about what was wrong and what she had dreamed of.
"White walls," She gasped, placing a hand on her forehead and feeling the scar starting there as she recalled her first real visual memory. "White walls..."
"White walls – like on your screen?" Newt asked for clarification, frowning as he did so and climbing easily into her bunk before wrapping an arm around her shivering form and rubbing to keep her warm.
"I remember," She murmured, refusing to meet his eyes and instead letting out a short disbelieving breath as her heartbeat steadied. "I remember the trials. White walls...the buzzer – and the voice."
"Who's voice?"
She paused, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to remember what sort of voice had been blasting in her dream and groaning in frustration when she couldn't come up with anything. It was infuriating once more; as if someone was teasing her by pulling at the strings of her brain that held all of the locked up answers. She felt like a puppet – a used puppet that had run its course but was still being teased by it's master.
"I don't remember," The repeated phrase caused Inka's head to hang low as she covered her face with both of her hands and began to sob. Newt grew desperate at this point, not wanting to see her tears overwhelm her once more, and held her even tighter in hopes to prevent more sobs from escaping her throat.
"It's okay," He assured, murmuring that everything was going to be all right in the end and that she would get her memory back, knowing that it was the only thing he could do in the moment. "It's okay not to remember."
"I r-remember the Grievers," She stuttered suddenly in between fits of tears, lifting her head and tugging her hair in frustration as she ignored Newt's advice. "I remember t-that. I remember running – and my a-accident," She motioned to her face where the scars lay. "That was t-trial eighty four – that's why they h-had it up on the s-screen. I r-remember that, a-and I remember the needle."
"Needle?" Newt's mind flitted back to the day's previous events where she had been reflexively petrified of the sharp object entering her body. He focused his efforts on grasping her hand, loosely prying it from it's spot at the top of her head where she was practically tearing her hear out in frustration for not able to remember the dream.
"Yeah," Inka wiped the tears away from her eyes, trying to focus now as she recognized the importance of her memories. "And lots of black. There was a red line on the floor – the whole thing seemed so short it only felt like a couple of seconds."
Newt was silent, choosing to rub her back in circles instead of simply squeeze her from the side.
"But I know it was longer," She continued, mulling over her own dream. "They must have done it so many times if it said eighty four...why can't I remember any of the others?"
"They could have swiped you..." Newt murmured, hesitant to accept that it could have been a possibility but knowing fully well that if WCKD was to capture anyone and conduct experimentation as violent as what she had been put through, it was in their best interests to swipe their minds each time they performed a test.
The problem was that they had no idea how to tell how many tests Inka had been put through. She had no idea how much time she had even been detained for or the reason they had initially picked her for. Besides her convenient immunity, there was no reason for her not to have been sent up to another Glade or have joined Newt's community sooner. There was no recollection of the passing of time to aid the British girl in puzzling out how long WCKD had kept her before sending her up to the Glade, and the only clue was the number eighty four that stated no importance besides the fact that it was the number of the trial in which she had received her injury; the proof that the screen had not lied.
"Yeah," She admitted, not liking that possibility but accepting it as a reality. "They could have swiped me..."
The two British teens sat in silence for a bit longer, enjoying each others presence as opposed to sharing words. Inka grew tired after her panic and was practically falling asleep in her sitting position next to Newt. The British boy held her contentedly, letting a rare smile grace his features as her head drooped down to rest naturally in the crook of his neck. If he had had a previous life, Newt realized, he would have enjoyed spending it this way. His instincts told him that making someone feel safe and comforted each day was the right thing to do if you cared for someone, and he found himself calmed as well when she would touch him or he listened to her gentle breathing.
Unfortunately, Newt was no stranger to the fact that all good things needed to come to an end, and he gently placed Inka back down in a horizontal position on her bunk before clambering into his and reverting back to his original position where their heads were closest together. They both needed a proper sleep, and he felt the best thing to do was to return her to her cot so that he could get rest as well. He murmured one last goodnight, even though he knew Inka was already fast asleep.
Little did Newt know, even sleep could not properly prepare them for Thomas' recollection of events the next day.
