Serious drama goes down in this chapter. With Janson down, hope really is fading for everyone. For those wondering what's going on at Dr. Hong's end, she's good, she's reached the village, she's on her way to Denver right now. I'm not writing her because no canon character is with her, and I don't like putting too much focus on OCs. Dr. Callestan's drabble is the only exception, for the good guy bad guy syndrome going on.
Response to reviews:
Maze Runner Junkie: Aww…really? The only part in his POV was the prologue? And I was looking forward to reading more of his POV and get an idea of how he thinks. The friend I was waiting for to buy it wants to, but he hasn't been to a bookshop yet, so…I will read it though. Even if I have to sit at the bookshop all day.
Guest: Yes, yes, I'm continuing right now! XD So what do you think of the new chapter?
In the end, you always go back to the people that were there in the beginning.
Prototype
Chapter Thirteen
Ava Paige placed one final call before she finally looked up to check the clock. She knew that time moved slower when you needed it to go faster and kept checking on the clock, which was why she had kept herself busy with more attempts to contact Janson's base and maintaining a steady flow of updates from her own headquarters.
One more hour to go.
If only the Flat Trans hadn't been set up so early-they could program the other end of it to be in her own headquarters, it would have saved them so much time.
But now Subject B7 was dead, and Subject A5 was dying. Probably dead already, since that message had been sent three hours prior. Janson's obsession with hope had been given in that transcription as well, the complete message reading Subject B7 dead. Subject A5 dying. A.D. Janson says they are our hope. Suspect he may be infected. Wants to test more prototypes on A5 despite B7's results. Urgent request for help. Control him somehow. Repeat, urgent request for help. Dr. Hong sent to stop further escalation.
Signed, Dr. Luke Callestan.
It had come in just thirty minutes before, and Ava had closed her eyes, asking herself how she had missed Janson's signs of madness.
The promise to keep the subjects safe, stop any testing until they fully adjust to their memories-lie.
And she had been fool enough to believe it.
Ava did not remember much of Dr. Hong. The name stirred memories-a dark, Asian girl sitting silently through all the meetings, quietly doing her duty without any questions. The perfect worker, taking orders without ever questioning them.
She would not stand a chance against Janson.
"Look." The words tumbled out of Thomas' mouth in a rush as he dragged both Minho and Vince into the lift, disregarding the previous instructions, set just in case there was a trap in the lift. "It's blood. And yes, yes, the labs are clear, not one shank in sight to ambush me."
Minho's face darkened even more, if possible. Vince frowned. "More evidence of a fight and a struggle. Add that to the envoy pursuing one van, I say that something's gone wrong."
"Could someone have kidnapped the Rat Man?" Thomas asked, a bit too hopefully.
"We should check the security room out before we jump to conclusions." Vince quickly put in before Minho retorted. Tensions had been growing between these two, and he didn't want to be caught in the middle of it, especially not in the middle of a life or death situation. "Hopefully we can rewind the footage and figure out what's going on."
They all piled into the elevator, Thomas spending the ride staring at the flecks of blood while Minho was obviously avoiding looking at it. Vince felt like he had gotten himself into the most awkward situation ever.
Minho didn't see blood all that often, despite everything that they had been through. Not like this, glaring at them from the clean environment around them. Most of the deaths he had seen were due to Grievers, and he hadn't had time to linger, to study the bloodstains. To think of what it would take to clean it up, to sort the mess that lingered in his mind.
Thus the avoidance. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away, that the burning red would imprint itself into his mind if he gave it the chance.
The lift stopped and the doors opened. Minho was the first to exit, but had to wait for Thomas to lead the way, since he only had memories of the rooms and the Maze. Vince took up rear position.
They passed rooms and labs, some with the doors wide open, some locked. They ran into one terrified scientist, who immediately got knocked out by the butt of Minho's gun before Thomas could even open his mouth. They were a bit more wary after that, checking through keyholes and doors in case of a back attack, but the place was completely deserted.
Finally, Thomas opened a door and gestured for them to enter. "It's here."
Minho barreled in, to find a man bound and gagged to a chair. The man had his eyes closed, but they snapped open when he heard the ruckus the three of them were making. Minho yanked out the gag as Vince turned to lock and secure the door they entered through.
"Are you from WICKED?" Was the first question out of Minho's mouth.
"Not anymore." The man's voice was dark, laced with bitterness. "I disagreed with their ideals. Who are you?"
"Doesn't matter. We have weapons, and you're tied up. You don't get to call the shots." Vince pointed out, turning to face the man. "Answer any questions we have or it won't be pretty."
"Where's New-Subject A5?" Thomas asked, changing the reference to Newt halfway. If he used to work for WICKED, then the probability for him recognizing Newt by that name was higher. Minho threw him a dirty look, but he ignored the stinging.
"Hopefully out of here by now." The man smiled, lighting up his face for a moment.
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.
"Wait, what?" Minho yelled. "Shucking hell! We saw them! They were chasing after him, and we could have distracted them, we could have picked him up, we could have been out of this place already!"
"Calm down, kid." Vince said, though he worriedly glanced at Thomas.
Thomas was frantically scrolling through the footage on the screens placed haphazardly on the table. "We had shuck for brains if we assumed that Newt was just going to stay put once he discovered what they were doing to him." He muttered under his breath. The other boy was not second in command just because he was the Glade Mother.
"Subjects A2 and A7." The man said, identifying them. Minho whirled on him.
"Tell us what happened."
"My name is Luke Callestan, and I was instructed to watch over Subject A5, the Glue, Isaac Newton, or Newt…"
Newt wasn't sure how long he had taken to turn a couple corners and into the depths of the Maze before he heard footsteps pounding back, out of the Griever Hole and back through the Maze.
"Spread out! Search for the boy!" A voice barked, magnified by a megaphone or some other similar gimmick. "Watson, Greene, go back down through the Box. Don't worry, it's not going to freaking cut you in half. That was specially designed for the subjects only, it's deactivated now. Go check the security room, look through the footage, make contact with us if you see any sign of him."
A distinct salute of 'Roger!'
More footsteps, and Newt held in a whimper of pain as he forced himself to go faster, clinging to the ivy ropes to keep himself from face planting into the ground. He didn't have the strength to keep his bad leg above the ground as he moved, but dragging it on the ground only hurt more. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep going.
The Maze was silent as he moved further away from the men with increased speed.
He chose the paths with the most junctions, pausing every now and then to make sure no blood got on the floor, or to smooth over the dust disturbed by his feet. The pauses were a brief respite, but he never dared to stop long, since he had no idea where the men were, or how much progress they were making. Pulling himself up again always hurt.
Could he escape if they had left the Griever Hole unguarded? Why had they returned anyway? Was Dr. Hong caught?
A sudden stabbing pain drove through his skull as he pondered these questions, and Newt gave a short gasp, falling forward, hitting the ground as his head continued to pound. Blood sprayed onto the ground as he choked and gurgled on yet more blood, spasms jerking his body violently. His right hand reached forwards-he had to keep moving, they would find him-but the other clawed at his throat, uncut nails digging deep into the skin, leaving bright red trails of blood trailing down-Stop stop stop it hurts it hurts stop I want out I don't want it to hurt I want to-
The two young men that had snuck up on him from behind froze, unsure whether that was supposed to happen.
"I only wanted to knock him out!" The brunette exclaimed, eyes filled with fear and guilt. "I don't think-"
The voice that boomed suddenly through the Maze wasn't helping matters.
"Assistant Director Janson has been found dead! Everyone regroup in the Glade! Repeat, Assistant Director Janson found dead! All guards, regroup in the Glade! Assistant…"
Newt screamed. Hoarse, broken, red flecks and spittle flying out in the long, drawn out sound of pure agony. The second man winced, and tried to touch Newt, but received a kick to his knee for that. The brunette threw himself on Newt, trying to stop him from struggling, while the second man spoke into his device, informing the others of the new development.
Get out of my head-we aren't subjects-
"I don't think we should-I didn't know he would be that-" The brunette tried to pin Newt down, but the boy was thrashing about too violently. "Calm down! I'm sorry, we should get you back for proper care. Stop-"
"I don't think he's fighting us." The blond said quietly. "There's more going on in WICKED than we knew."
The brunette looked horrified. "What-how-"
Newt choked off, dragging himself a few centimeters forward with the man on his back, but his broken ankle screamed in protest at the movement. He was tired, and hurting, and the world was tapdancing around him-
Alby, no! You can't-we can't-we have to-
Is the way I talk that funny?
Who are you? Where am I?
Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.
Memories, broken and halting, danced before him. He wondered briefly if he was getting the famed memory flashback treatment that one was rumored to get just before death.
Snatches of conversation between his two assailants dimly made it through his muddled brain.
-help him-
-right and wrong-
-take him back? But-
-us alive-
Daddy, stop! Lizzy didn't mean it-
Lizzy, that's mine! You don't get everything just because you're bloody younger!
…I'm a big brother?
Did she even survive the Maze?
Mummy, why do I have to walk in front of Aunt Janice? It's scary!
Daddy, make me fly!
With a smile on his face, Newt closed his eyes.
The two men stopped arguing as the boy under them abruptly stilled.
The blond looked away, while the brunette got off the body, stared numbly for a moment, and started to weep in choked, broken sobs.
"No." Minho whispered in mute horror, replaying the footage. It was a bit grainy, due to the dust coating the lens of the Beetle Blade, but unmistakable.
A blond, pale face coated in blood and a determined expression, was steadily moving up the wall of the Maze, lithe and graceful, though his movements were dragging and slow, partly due to his injured limb, partly due to the mixture of chemicals he had been fed the past few days.
The head turned, eyes widened in surprise, and Minho caught one last glimpse of Newt's face, tired and worn, before he reached out a fist to smash the Beetle Blade and the screen went dark.
Thomas was frozen behind him, mouthing unintelligible words, but Minho couldn't bring himself to care. He numbly pressed the replay button again, memorizing every detail of the vines, the wall underneath the vines, Newt's side profile before he noticed the Beetle Blade, then a clear shot of his face before he destroyed the Beetle.
He was about to press the button for the third time when Vince gently caught his hand.
"Let it go, young man."
Minho shut his eyes, suddenly glad that Thomas had made Dr. Callestan leave to reopen communications in Janson's office before he told Minho to look at the footage.
He hadn't been with Alby when the other boy had found Newt, but he could only imagine. His imagination was his worst nightmare, especially during the week where Newt lay unconscious, the Med Jacks fearing that he might never wake up, spooning food and water into him, unceasingly wondering whether what they were doing was enough. It was where they got the practice necessary to keep Teresa alive when she was in the coma. His dreams were haunted with Newt's smiles, and he woke up in a cold sweat, because in none of his dreams, he had been able to stop Newt from jumping.
Those were the days he feared that he might never see Newt smile again.
He remembered worrying for Alby as the muscular boy dashed into the Maze, after Minho reported that Newt wasn't in the Glade. Thirty minutes left until sundown-Nick had to physically restrain Minho from running in again, but he hadn't taken Alby into account. He remembered Alby's hoarse cry for the Med Jacks when he made it through the Doors, two minutes after they were supposed to close. Nobody bothered to solve the mystery of the normally punctual Doors closing late though, the bloodied figure in Alby's white grip was enough to make them ignore that fact.
Alby and Minho had come up with a promise, a pact. And Newt smiled and laughed again, like nothing had happened, except for the telltale way he walked and ran.
Then this whole shucking mess had to happen, and it drove Newt up the wall again. Literally. Alby broke his promise, they left the Maze, he got the Flare.
Minho was the only one left.
"NEWT!" He howled, grief reverberating through the very walls of WICKED. "I WILL SHUCKING KILL YOU!"
If you weren't already dead.
Minho fell to the floor and sobbed.
"See you in the Maze." Minho attempted a smile.
Newt scowled at him. "One month. One bloody month. And you won't even remember me."
"Don't fret, Newt. What, you're going to miss us?" Alby joked, but it fell flat at the look on Newt's face.
"You're all leaving me behind." Newt said, knowing that he sounded like a whiner, but they wouldn't remember it in a few hours anyway.
Siggy sighed. "I would stay if I had a choice, but…"
But the world needed to be saved. But WICKED would make them go. But they didn't really have a choice.
Newt's face crumpled just a little, and Minho couldn't take it anymore. He dragged the younger boy into a firm hug, mussing up his hair roughly. "If we're going to make this sappy, let's go all the way."
Winston joined in, and then Nick. Newt dragged Alby over with an outstretched arm stuck out from under Minho's armpit. Clint, smiling shyly, tentatively hugged them, before George knocked him into the pile of bodies and limbs, and everyone was shrieking with laughter as they toppled over, smashing down hard onto the couch, Minho taking the brunt of it as he was on the bottom. Zack shook his head, watching them with a smile on his face.
"Ow! Get off-" Minho was cut off by the other boys, from Nick's roar of laughter to Newt's giggles. Everyone disentangled themselves from the heap, with some effort, finally giving Minho space to breathe and recover.
"Never again." He said, finally rising from the couch. Newt, sitting cross-legged on the ground, smiled brightly at him, but the others remained somber, knowing that this brief moment of joy would be ripped away from them soon.
Among their group of friends, Newt was the only one not picked to be sent up into the Maze in the first big group. There were a couple kids from other friend circles as well. It could be due to Newt's age as thirteen, the youngest of them all, but they were planning to send him up in a month anyway. It could be another of those intricate Variables the Candidates had designed, but they weren't inclined to find out what else was in store for them. They wouldn't remember anyway.
"Well, they promised that they would give us our memories back when we're done." Alby reminded. "So look on the bright side."
They didn't know when the Ending would be triggered, but all of them had a sinking feeling in their hearts when it was announced that one person would be sent up each month.
There were a hundred and fifty kids, give or take, here. Granted, there were two separate Mazes, but how long would it take to go through all of them? A big group sent up in the beginning shaved a lot off that huge number, but still. It would take at least four years.
"And how long would that take?" Siggy asked sullenly. "They didn't tell us much, but they keep talking about patterns and Variables, and I doubt that we're going to be in for a joyride."
True. Various tests, physical and mental, had been run, but they weren't informed of the results.
"Well, we just have to tough this out. We aren't babies anymore." Minho said. He gripped Newt's shoulder, hard. "Even you. You need to act grown up, starting now. Be thirty instead of thirteen. You were the baby of our group, but you have to be the adult after we're gone, you get me?"
"Minho, maybe that's asking too much. We all know Newt's capable, but-" Nick started, but Alby cut him off.
"In this world, there're no children anymore, Nick."
His eyes were sad, shadowed. Everyone looked away, some knowing, some just having an inkling of what Alby had been through before WICKED had taken him here, through whispers and shadows.
"It's okay, Alby." Newt's voice rang through the silence. His lips quirked up in a smile, which, unbeknownst to them, was the last glimpse of innocence any of them would get for a very long time. "You don't have to worry. I will see you in a month."
There was no stress placed upon the word 'will', but everyone knew what that meant.
They knew Newt wasn't Immune. They knew that with all the people coming and going in this place, there was no way to keep him truly safe, even though WICKED took the best measures they could. They had kept Newt away from grumpy teachers, away from janitors they hadn't seen before, even away from Gally until an exasperated doctor informed them that Gally's status was Immune. Newt was among those having to be tested once a week, poked and prodded with needles for confirmation they weren't infected yet.
Five miraculous years, and Newt was still Flare-free. They didn't dare let down their guard though.
A lot could change in a month. A newly hired worker, an Immune not taking the proper precautions, a loosely shut door, and the airborne virus could be on Newt in an instant.
Newt was unhappy about being left behind, but the rest worried more about that issue. Especially Alby, who had witnessed his entire family turn upon each other, tearing out flesh and hair, gnawing on his brother's screaming mouth, as he tried to keep Alby safe, as his father and his grandfather bashed each other's face in, laughing in pure delight.
WICKED arrived just as his mother had torn his brother's beating heart out and attempted to bite down into the tough, sinewy muscle.
He knew what being a Crank truly meant.
And he knew that if Newt got infected, he would kill Newt before he ever let the quiet, sweet boy become that.
One month.
It's just one month.
Newt would be safe.
Just in case…
"You're the best little brother I could ever have." He said, to everyone's shock and surprise. He hid a smile, just as it sank in that he considered Newt to be on par with his own big brother, the one who had died for him, who had been Immune as well.
And he was sure his big brother would be happy that he had someone like Newt.
"Subjects A3, A4, A6, A7, A8, A10, A13, A18, A24, would you please follow me? It's time." A doctor poked her head through the door.
Alby ignored her, just as everyone else rose to follow the doctor, waving goodbye to Newt, some giving him another hug, for fear it would be their last. He kept his eyes fixed on the younger boy.
"And…" He hesitated. Everyone had left, but Minho lingered by the door. "His name was Joshua."
He turned, and left, ignoring Minho's shocked expression, or Newt's gaping mouth. At least his brother's name would be remembered.
For another thirty days.
They say a person dies twice. Once when their heart stops beating, and the second time when their name is forgotten.