Clarifying: Teresa and the others didn't escape to the Right Arm, instead they relocated to another WICKED base with Chancellor Paige to do the blueprint work. Janson's base is focused on prototypes, so they had no reason to remain there.
AU drabble at the end, I think you all know what happens after that drabble.
Climax almost there! I almost regret making Thomas and Minho move so slowly, but then it gives me more space to put everything in place at WICKED. Nasty surprise waiting for them there XD Three more hours to go.
Response to reviews:
Dusty Books: If you just type in the Copy-n-Paste section I guess you would have to hit Enter twice to make a good sized split between paragraphs. Word does that automatically though. Don't die yet, I want you to finish reading my story!
Maze Runner Junkie: Thanks! I liked that part too-so emotionally charged! The more emotions, the easier it is for me to write-weird, I know.
If you fight, you might lose; if you don't fight, you've already lost.
Prototype
Chapter Ten
WICKED workers methodically spread out, leaving a few to guard the exits, and then starting to comb the corridors of WICKED with a fine tooth comb, starting from the ground floor, cutting off all means of escape, then working their way up.
There were four floors, the ground floor being the one generating power, where the lower levels worked, and the one that remained in touch with the outside world, importing supplies and acting as garage for the land vehicles. The Berg hangar was in another building, but the corridor that led to it was connected to the ground floor as well.
The first floor contained the rooms and kitchen, where everyone stayed. It provided a lot of good hiding places, if nothing else.
The second floor had the labs, the place where the real work took place. Here, scientists and doctors alike worked feverishly together, trying to obtain a Cure, or create a new Prototype. They were divided into sections though, from different departments, under different commands. But the chain of command always had Ava Paige at the top and Janson as the second in command.
As for the top floor, that was the Maze.
They had constructed an exit to the Maze, through the Griever hole. That exit lead straight to a walled off section of the storage area on the ground floor, and led off to the back of the building. It had been constructed specifically, inaccessible from all other sections to create the illusion of having seen the entire ground floor. There were backup buses kept there, in case the first bus to transport the subjects malfunctioned.
Dr. Hong hoped that with it being inaccessible unless it was through the Maze or circling around the building and its compound, which was rather large, again designed to create the illusion that the subjects were truly out in open space and free, the guards wouldn't get to it that fast.
They just had to beat the jeeps and trucks currently making their way out of the front and around the compound. Or hope that Janson wouldn't think of sending people up into the Maze.
"Do you have more of those?" Newt asked her, slurring his words slightly as she led the way through the boxes and crates to the elevator. She was pretty sure that almost every WICKED guard loyal to Janson would have been used to guard the exits and close in slowly, meaning that as long as they remained hidden, they would still have time and not fear meeting one midway.
"Of what?" She whispered, deftly setting the controls of the Box to normal speed.
"Those pills." Dr. Hong looked back at him as she stepped back, waiting for the Box to arrive, praying that no one would hear the noise, and realized just how pale he was. Blood stained the sheet he was holding to his nose, and a thin trickle of blood was coming from his mouth as well. His eyes were starting to look bloodshot.
She rummaged around in her pockets. "Careful," she warned, handing him another. "You don't want to take too much of those. Your body always knocks itself out after an adrenaline dose, to make up for the energy. And you aren't in best shape right now, and I don't want you to go to sleep and…never wake up."
Newt looked at her with tired eyes. "At this point, I just want to know if I can survive long enough without the adrenaline."
The Box arrived, and Dr. Hong quickly hustled Newt in, shielded by crates. The doors closed soundlessly.
Temporarily safe in the Box, Newt shakily sank to the floor. Dr Hong knelt down beside him worriedly. "I've no idea what was in the last prototype, so I'm sorry, I can't give you any morphine or painkillers."
"It's fine." Newt waved her off. "You're helping me, though I don't know why. You put us into the Maze in the first place, didn't you? And now you're bringing me back there again." He laughed humorlessly.
"I'm sorry." Dr. Hong whispered quietly. "Truthfully, if it wasn't for Luke-Dr. Callestan, I wouldn't have dared to take the first step in freeing you either. I'm not brave, never have been. When some people realized what we were doing was wrong, they tried to stop it, they held protests, they filed reports and-and I did nothing. Not even while they all disappeared, one by one. Not when my friend was taken."
The Box jerked to a halt.
"I'm terrified right now." She said, standing. "I'm not good at running. Not good at fighting. Just your average person. I'm not a hero. Not a martyr. But I am doing my best right now."
She looked at the opening of the Box, taunting them. She looked back at Newt, who despite his bloody and bedraggled appearance, had a smile on his face as he stood, slowly, achingly.
"I'll give you a leg up. Welcome to the Glade, Greenie."
Five o'clock.
Minho still wasn't talking to Thomas.
That ugly shuckface doesn't deserve it. He shucking knew and still put them all in there! He had deliberately sent Newt to his death-to see their brain patterns falling apart without their Glue, he said. They saw the results, they decided it would be good to put him in there still, to let him die, just for their shucking brain patterns. Thomas probably watched for the seconds, minutes, that trickled by as Newt climbed higher and higher to his death, and did nothing about it.
The betrayal he felt this time was much deeper than when Teresa had shown up with a bunch of shucking girls from Group B and kidnapped Thomas. Probably because he thought he could trust Thomas, that they were in this together, that what Newt had said about only the present mattering was true.
But Thomas had done terrible things. In the past, and the effects were still lingering to the present. How could he ever trust him again?
Newt. Alby. Nick. George. So many. Chuck. Whom Thomas had mourned himself, but Minho realized with a chill that Thomas probably had a hand in planning his death before he entered the Maze.
Everything had been engineered. Planned. By Thomas himself.
Minho resisted the urge to go back in the control room and throttle Thomas again. He hadn't emerged since an hour ago, when Minho left him in there, sobbing pathetically. He didn't know how he would be able to resist shoving Thomas off the Berg, without the parachute when they arrived, or that he would be able to stand five minutes of creeping through WICKED's base, Thomas' base, without fighting with Thomas.
If only Newt was here, to placate him. To talk sense into him. To tell him that everything was alright, and strengthen that belief he had felt burning so strong in him that day, after Newt had reassured Thomas about his past.
Shuck, he missed Newt.
Minho let out a long sigh.
Words spoken so long ago, coming to life.
"They call me the Glue. But what am I when there's nothing to stick?"
"We'll manage without you for a while. But when we come back, falling apart at the seams, then you can be the one to glue us together again."
They were doing more than falling apart at the seams. This was betrayal, to the deepest. Like shards of glass, crushed beyond repair.
Even Newt would have trouble fixing them this time.
Janson flicked through the security feed, frustrated. There were over three hundred security cameras in the WICKED facility, and even when he narrowed them down to those detecting motion, there were still over a hundred. He had sent all the guards to close off the exits, leaving him to keep an eye on the numerous security feeds, scrolling past them fast to get to them all, yet fearing that he would miss some tiny detail.
Then something blinked on the right corner of the screen.
Box in motion.
Janson grabbed his phone. "Give up on the exits!" He practically yelled, switching to the feed in the Box, just as it halted, revealing Dr. Hong being given a boost by the subject into the Glade. "I want you to get in the Box, as many as you can cram in, and follow them into that Maze. Tell those people going around the compound to go faster!"
"Yes sir!"
Janson put down the phone, and stood, looming over Dr. Callestan, secured to the desk, bound with ropes. "Your efforts have gone to waste."
Dr. Callestan lifted his chin. He had one last card to play, and he wouldn't let Janson know about it yet.
An email was waiting on the server, ready to send as soon as a semblance of a connection was opened to the outside world. If Newt and Dr. Hong managed to lure the guards out, far enough, and Janson maintained contact with those guards, Ava Paige would learn about what was going on immediately.
If the subject couldn't be saved, at least he was going to bring down the person who caused his death.
Dr. Hong couldn't help but feel a deep sense of respect for the subjects as she stared at the Homestead, falling apart, the remnants of construction supplies, the kitchen, the Bloodhouse and the pens, and the Map Room. But most of all, when she looked at the towering Doors before them. The Maze seemed so gigantic, looming over them. She had never seen it from this perspective before.
Newt had to sit down to catch his breath after Dr. Hong pulled him out of the Box. He had started a coughing spasm, spitting out blood tinged with black. Dr. Hong was worried, but there was nothing much she could do. She didn't have a sample of the Prototype, and she had no idea what was going on. But still, they had to hurry.
"I'm fine. I'm fine." His words came in short bursts, punctuated with gasps for air. "Give me a couple seconds."
He was burning up, Dr. Hong could tell by a glance. And weak. But they had no choice but to keep moving.
"Do you remember the way to the Griever Hole?" She asked.
Newt nodded, finally seeming to stabilize a little. He tried to push himself up, but his trembling arms gave way.
Dr. Hong looped his arm around her shoulders, and stood, nearly stumbling as she realized just how much of his own weight Newt couldn't support.
Then the Box jerked suddenly, and started to descend. Dr. Hong paled. "Oh no."
"That Door." Newt pointed, voice sharp.
They made their way over as quickly as possible, the clanging and ringing of the Box's mechanisms echoing in the Glade, terrifying them.
"Left!" Newt disentangled himself from Dr. Hong, jogging a little, his body producing its own adrenaline. He didn't bother wiping the blood this time, knowing that they would have a map. "Left again. Now right."
Dr. Hong shivered as she could hear the sounds of guards heaving themselves out of the Box in the distance. She spotted a dusty Beetle Blade scurrying by. Janson must have reactivated them. Before she could catch it though, Newt had slammed a fist down on it, crushing it. He lifted his fist, which was bleeding a little. "Wow. I never got one of those shuck things before."
"They're slow. Just reactivated. They're warming up." Dr. Hong realized.
"Right." Newt directed, skirting another corner.
Even though their pace had significantly improved, the guards were still catching up. Newt obviously noticed the same thing. "Another two lefts, and you'll see the Griever Hole." He said. "I'm going to climb the ivy and disappear on them for a while. I can destroy the Beetle Blades that find me, and sneak away. You can go ahead and lure them away. As long as you stay ahead far enough, they won't guess that I'm still in here. I'm slow, and you could get further without me. Call Ava Paige, or try to contact Thoimas and Minho. Both of us will be safer."
Dr. Hong mulled it over. "You sure you won't fall?" Again was the unspoken word.
Newt smiled. "I have a reason not to this time."
"Chancellor Paige." She looked up to see Teresa standing in her doorway, looking just like any normal teenager in a T-shirt and jeans. "There is something I feel that you should know."
"Yes. Come in and have a seat." She swept the papers cluttering her desk to one side, to allow Teresa do lay the folders she held on her desk. She folded her hands. "So what is this about?"
A crease deepened the furrow between her brows. Teresa opened the topmost file. "Look." Her finger pointed to a line of what others would comprehend as gibberish data. "Here." Her finger jabbed another spot. "And here." She flicked a page. "And here. Here. Here." She opened the last folder. "The inconsistencies only grow more and more. And today, there weren't even any transmissions."
Ava Paige raised an amused brow. "One day back to work, and you're already looking for inconsistencies in A.D. Janson's updates? We should be focusing on the blueprint here, you know."
Teresa folded her hands in her lap, looking down. "I wanted to check on Tom."
Paige sighed, reaching out to take the folder and have a better look at it herself. "We originally agreed on these transmissions because I wanted full focus on the blueprints here. Holo transmissions take too much time and there's rarely anything important. Thomas and Minho have left for Denver, remember? I told you so yesterday."
Teresa kept quiet. There was another reason. She knew Newt wasn't immune, and had been detained for prototype testing. Newt meant a lot to Tom, and if she could keep an eye on him somehow, make sure he was okay, do her best and prove that those patterns were useful after all, then maybe she would be forgiven.
Ava Paige paged through the transmission data. "True." She eventually said. "I neglected the need to keep an eye on Janson and his prototypes. He's been sending me false data."
Teresa felt a shiver go up her spine. She sounded calm and cool, unruffled, but she could feel the undercurrent of anger and fury. Her temper wasn't boiling, but it was chilling, ice blizzards and hurricanes enough to turn the Scorch into an ocean.
"Chancellor Paige, WICKED facility DE1432 just sent out a peculiar signal before-oh. Teresa?" Aris stopped. "I'm sorry, but this is urgent. A.D. Janson's facility-"
"As a matter of fact, we were just discussing the same thing here." Ava Paige said, and Aris immediately recognize the dangerous tone she was using right now, meaning that she was really, really mad at someone. "Please tell me what the matter is."
"Right. The facility had been sending typed and coded transmissions of its data and functioning to us for the past three days, and today, the fourth day, transmissions arrived in the morning as usual. But starting as of four o'clock, one last transmission was sent, partly coded and partly incomplete. The user ID used belongs to Dr. Luke Callestan." He passed the sheet of paper to Teresa, who took a brief glance at it before passing it to Ava Paige.
000116 0011 01 0100 S pe 01011 H l 001010
It was brief, and looked to be cut off halfway. Total gibberish.
But complete with the information Teresa had brought…
"Subject A5. Pope..? Plo, pro…prope? Protape…protope…prototype." Ava Paige looked up. "Prepare a Berg. We have to get there now. Aris. Tell Harriet to set up a link with WICKED facility DE1432. Contact Facility AT1200 as well, tell them to send an envoy over, but do not take action. They may be the closest facility, but they are too small of a force. Teresa, see if you are able to contact Thomas and Minho. Tell them to return. He has to return. I will put a stop to Janson's madness, but this cannot go on. We need him back to keep things in control. He was the one who picked Janson and I as Chancellor and Assistant Director, after all."
Teresa smiled bitterly. If only he would listen to her. "Noted."
"Some of you are not Immune, as Control Variables in the experiment. I'd prefer to get this over with quickly."
Subject A7, the Leader, Minho.
"I have the Flare, damnit!" Minho yelled, face turning a new shade of red. Thomas turned away, shielding his expression from Minho, shielding himself from the hurtful comments, "I'm already dead! Why does it matter anyway? Why does any of it matter?!"
Brenda sighed and got up. "I'll come back and we'll finish this discussion when you quit acting like a petulant child. Just keep your voice down. Don't wake Jorge. Can't have a tired pilot."
Minho laughed bitterly. "Done dealing with the Crank then?" He whirled on Thomas. "Shuck it, face me! Look at me! I'm a Crank and you'd better shucking learn to accept that!"
Thomas pretended he couldn't hear Minho, shutting his eyes tightly to block out the sight of him.
"Minho. Enough." Newt said tiredly.
"Got to stop the Crank rampage then, Newt?" Minho grinned, but it looked all twisted and wrong. "Shuck it all."
"Minho. Please." Newt got up and walked towards Minho. "You aren't thinking straight right now. Cool down."
"Shucking cool down, he says. Think clearly, he says." Minho mockingly repeated Newt's words back to him. "You're not the one who has the shucking Flare!"
"But you can't just give up on yourself like that!" Newt shot back.
"Says the one who jumped off the Maze walls!" Minho screamed.
Newt inhaled sharply. Thomas jerked and lifted his head. Minho grinned victoriously, until he saw the look on Newt's face and realized what he had done. He stumbled backwards, away from Newt, but that put him closer to Thomas and he changed direction abruptly, wanting to put as much distance between himself and his friends. So that he wouldn't hurt them.
How could he do that? To Newt, who had always been by his side? To Thomas, who had done nothing but do his best in his own clumsy way to be supportive of him? To Jorge and Brenda, who had given up safe lives at WICKED to help them escape?
He didn't want this. To hurt them more, to spiral into insanity right in front of the people he cared about more than anything.
Minho gripped the gun by his side, but a pair of arms was wrapped around him before he could move another inch, a blond head beside his and the body pressed against his shaking hard, as moisture slowly spread on his right shoulder.
"Don't." He could only say. "I hurt you." I should die.
For three long years in the Maze, never had he seen Newt cry. Greenies breaking down were common, the occasional bouts of frustration and anger bringing tears as well, but Newt…that was why, he suspected, Newt had to jump. He was the only one who never provided an outlet for his emotions, never shedding a tear, never displaying outward signs of fury, bottling them up until he had to jump.
But Newt was crying, hard but silent, gripping Minho's shirt tightly, and poor Thomas just looked confused and unsure of what he should do. He walked up to Minho's side, and with a gentleness Minho never knew he had in him, removed the gun from Minho's limp grasp.
"You are one bloody stupid shank." Newt's fingers dug into his back. "Don't you ever think of copying me. Remember that promise?"
Minho remembered. The crazy idea he had come up with Alby to protect Newt. It seemed like the tables were being turned on him now. He nodded, knowing that Newt would feel the movement.
"I'm saying as of now, that promise goes both shucking ways." Newt didn't mention how one of the three original people bound with that promise had already died, flinging himself to the Grievers. "So don't you dare shoot yourself, Minho."
Newt knew he was being selfish, taking away Minho's only escape from the Flare.
Minho knew what Newt was doing. He knew that Newt needed an assurance that Minho wasn't leaving him anytime soon, except that the Flare was going to take him away sooner or later, and it would be twice as painful.
He already had a solution to that.
Slowly, Minho raised his arms, and hugged back.
"I understand."