CHAPTER 33:
The click of Ava Paige's heels resounded through the empty, spacious white corridors, wide and airy to accommodate for people's learned discomfort for touching and close contact. The virus had taken a toll on all of them over the years. The clicks hastened as she gripped the files in her hand with worry, confusion driving her fast pace.
"Just the man I was looking for." she announced crisply, walking into the Control Room lab where the scientist she was searching for was seated, staring intently at complicated sheets of brain scans while running programs on his multiple computer screens.
"Chancellor." Janson greeted, his upper lip curling up involuntarily. Ava slammed the files onto his desk, her anger getting the better of her.
"Is there a problem?" Janson asked tightly, tearing his eyes away from his screen.
She pursed her lips, "A big one, one that needs explaining from no one other than you."
Janson gave her a humourless smile, "What could I explain to you, Chancellor?"
His condescension would've earned a reprimand had it been a time where the Maze trials were not put into serious jeopardy and Ava settled for a blank face to his insult. Janson's smile dipped.
"Subject X," she stated, gesturing at the files, "has been experiencing some concerning symptoms. Dizziness. Extreme fatigue. Insensitivity."
Janson's face transformed into his composed scientist mask instantaneously. Despite his cruelty, there was a clever mind behind his steel eyes and Ava needed him to solve the problem they were facing, the problem that he had technically created.
"I'm sure that's due to her stressful surroundings. Of course, Group A is entering the third movement of the Phase one trials." Janson said, flicking through the papers, frowning. Ava smiled clinically.
"I can confirm it is not. Her cortisol levels are only very slightly elevated. They had risen much more when she was in the Maze with Subject A7, yet she faced no aftermath other than physical wounds."
Janson muttered something under his breath, before placing the files down and pulling up a hologram screen, flicking through the tabs rapidly. His computer screen beeped and he pulled up another hologram to the side, coordinating the disk of his computer to WICKED'S database. Information was everywhere, meaning extensive digging had to be done, through the public files and his own private ones.
"Perhaps, the long exposure to stress?" Janson suggested to himself before shaking his head and Ava stayed silent. Though she loathed the man, she knew better than to let her pride interfere with the survival of the human race. He closed down his computer hologram, pulling up a sleek tablet and suspending it on his mag-lev circle, pensively staring down at the bright screen. Nothing.
Frowning, Janson pulled up a tab of the list of memories the subjects had managed to receive and their memory block statuses. He paused, eyes flickering through the data on the screen before he blew out a breath, closing everything down and taking off his glasses.
"Well?"
He smiled coldly, "Her memory block is…malfunctioning. Her brain has always been harder to tame than the others and the block has faced immense pressure over the years. It is degrading."
Ava's eyes narrowed, "And the solution, Janson."
He tilted his head, "Another Swipe? Of course, only reinforcing it, not taking away any memories of the Maze."
Ava nodded slowly, "Yes, a plausible solution but are there any alternatives? More permanent ones."
Janson nodded, "We could install a device in her brain that-"
"No." Ava said firmly. She knew exactly what Janson wanted. The telepathic device installed in Thomas, Teresa, Aris and Rachel was something that he felt belonged in Adira's head and her Group B counterpart. But she didn't agree. No, the potential saviour's brain had to remain as untouched as possible. "A third Swipe it is."
"This is an unsustainable practice, Chancellor." Janson argued and she fixed one of her infamous glares at him.
"This conversation is closed." she said coldly, "I didn't ask your opinion on the matter, Janson. A third Swipe will take place as soon as she removed from the Maze Trials and has been transferred to the Phase Two transition rooms. Thank you for your scientific opinion."
Janson didn't say anything and she left, picking her files on her way out. She needed to research Subject X's brain as soon as possible. The Swipe never degraded, especially when doubly utilised.
Why on hers?
They'd been running for around forty minutes, slowing occasionally as some boys struggled to keep up with the Runners' rapid pace. Minho's jaw ticked as they took another short slow down and she knew he was restraining himself from running full speed. She could relate. Her muscles were coiled up and tense and the jog wasn't doing anything to appease them. But they never stopped.
"Let's go!" she called out and the Gladers followed, tired but resolute in their tread, even little Chuck. Catching sight of Thomas' face, she ran on forward and Minho jogged at her side.
"We're getting close." he muttered, glancing at her briefly.
"We are," she started, craning her neck to see past the gloom of the grey sky, "one corridor away."
"Stop." Minho commanded suddenly, jutting out his arm to block her way forward and she ran squarely into it. Huffing slightly, she looked up at him, the seriousness lining his face catching her off guard.
"Listen." he said and her blood ran cold as she heard the familiar ticking of a Griever. Lucky he'd heard it. He'd always been better than her. more in tune with the grey corridors.
The word got around quickly and the sudden silence was eerie. Thomas came up beside her, his face covered in a slight sheen of sweat, "Griever?"
Minho pulled back from the edge of the corridor, shaking his head grimly, "Grievers. In the plural. There's fifteen of them. Right in front of the Griever Hole, just our luck."
"Fantastic." Newt muttered, drawing his machete from his back, twisting the short dagger in his right hand as he gave Adira a hardened nod. She clenched her fist around her own handle, fear pounding through her veins. Even the sight of Teresa's irritating face couldn't quench the terror flowing through her as she licked her dry lips in anticipation.
"Well, we're gonna have to fight." she said squarely, pursing her lips, "We'll do it."
Minho appraised her form, before twisting back her wrist to fix its position in preparation for combat, "Stick by me shuckette."
"I can handle myself." she said, not smiling. But she'd never planned on straying from his side anyway.
"Oh, I know you can." Minho said, his eyes flickering up to the grey sky, "Just for me. I want you close. Please."
She swallowed roughly, "Of course."
"Are we meant to charge?" Teresa asked, her voice wavering but bright eyes firm, "Cos we might as well do it now, have that element of surpris-"
A grating screech echoed behind them as Grievers tore through ivy and Maze dust, about to surround the Gladers, leer down at them as a predator to prey. Adira straightened, clutching her knife. They compressed, a tight huddle, trembling with fear, silence taking over.
"Yeah, about that." Minho muttered, glancing at Teresa's pale face, "Looks like the Grievers got there before us."
"What do we do?" Thomas asked, his eyes fixated on the green pulse of the Grievers' bellies, "We have to do something, they're getting close."
"Ain't got any ideas." Newt replied, his hands shaking minutely, "Anyone else?"
Adira opened her mouth to reply, but a lone figure tearing away from their compact group stole her words. Finley. He'd truly lost it, racing through the ivy and heading straight for the Griever Hole, arms splayed out as he sacrificed himself. Thomas looked sick.
Screams echoed in the corridors as the Grievers ripped the boy apart and she turned away, her knife heavy in her hand all of a sudden. Thomas looked hopeful despite the sprays of blood, and his grip on his spear tightened. The Grievers were coming closer and closer.
"Noble." Minho said and for once he meant it. Adira nodded, grimacing as the world went flying around her. Minho's face creased into a frown immediately and he grabbed her upper arm in concern.
"What's wrong?"
"Dizzy." she spat out, shaking her head, grateful that the vertigo subsided. "Better now."
He didn't look convinced, glancing from the Grievers to her. "Are you sure?"
She nodded mutely but Minho knew she was lying and he grabbed her hand tightly. It was unexplained, but she reckoned it was to do with fatigue, staying up late, barely getting sleep. At least Minho had napped once he got back from the Maze, but she was constantly needed around the Glade.
"Take this one." she whispered, "You lead."
It was a hard decision but there was no chance she would gamble with the Gladers' life just so could prove her leadership and bravery. Minho's eyes roamed her features as if he was searching for an answer before he pressed a kiss to her forehead, determination transforming the concern in the planes of his profile to cool ice. Thomas' eyebrows shot up at the exchange but he looked away, overwhelmed with the multitude of things happening all at once around him.
"Line up, arrowhead formation, and charge! Get Thomas and Teresa to the Griever Hole, that's a priority! If you can't kill 'em, then fight 'em, push up against the walls and pin them down!" Minho yelled and the Gladers bristled, readying for action.
She dragged her knife along the concrete, relishing in the sharp grate it made before she readied herself. The Grievers were hurtling down the corridor, closing in on them.
"Three, two, one…"
"Now!" Minho yelled and everyone followed his command, charging forward bravely, spears outstretched, the blades glinting menacingly in the dim light. The Grievers wasted no time either, scrambling forwards, their metal appendages scraping against the walls, the floor and from their perspectives, the block grey of the sky.
Their fighting was messy but she stayed close to Minho as she had promised, slashing anything in her path, screams echoing around them as chaos took over. Newt was with them, his brown eyes dark with anger as he stabbed a Griever's belly, grimacing at the putrid green substance pouring out.
"Hold 'em up against the walls!" Minho shouted and she ducked as a Griever's knife flew where her head had been. Clint was struggling against a metal monster and she jabbed the green under it, pulling Clint behind her, as she faced the snarling heap of machinery, its clanking sounds resonating in her ears. Ducking again as it aimed for her, she tugged Clint behind her, shoving her knife deep into the oily mess of machinery, racing away as it reared back in surprise.
"Okay?" Minho yelled, his face concentrated as he battled against another Griever and she joined him, blowing out a frustrated breath as she caught sight of Chuck holding Teresa's hand and Thomas heading straight for the Hole.
"Fine." she shouted back, rolling over to the side as the Griever stabbed its leg where she had been. Jumping to her feet, she waited for another attack, only to be taken by surprise as a Griever came from behind, knocking her against the wall.
"Maybe not." she muttered, but her words were drowned out as a boy screamed. The Griever roared as she struggled to stand, her bad leg shaking, her knife trembling in her grip. Just as she thought she would collapse, Newt was there, a large gash on his forehead dripping blood as he helped her slash the beast away from them.
"Tommy." Newt panted, yanking Nico away from a rogue spear before letting the boy go and fluidly picking up a dropped knife "He's in."
A sharp shot of relief spread through her chest but it was gone quickly as Clint's horrified face disappeared over the illusion of the Cliff, his scream a blank, eerie sound that haunted her. She would never forget the helpless resignation in his face, the plea for aid. But she couldn't save him.
Memories of his frustration at their injuries, his cool, long fingers and the amused irritation he carried shot through her mind, the hole in her heart growing. He'd fallen to his death. Clint was no more.
Letting loose a scream of frustration, she ran forward, shoving metal away from her as she started guiding the boys towards the Hole, hoping they could jump in as soon as they were given the green light. A bright flash of pain burst on her leg but she pushed forward, swiping her knife behind her to cut away whatever had impeded her. Minho glanced at her enraged face, nodding once as he continued pushing at a metal beast, ducking as Kyle was thrown in his direction, a brief expression of sorrow darting through his eyes.
Nico was at her side, panicked eyes darting around the corridors and she pushed him forward, cautious for any metal weapons aimed at them. Nico turned, about to thank her, but his words never came out, eyes widening as he pointed behind her.
She felt pain slam into her back and she flew forward, her knife clattering across the concrete, away from her reach. Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she darted away, facing her opponent with no weapons in hand. Nico was preoccupied, his terrified face solely concentrated on slashing the Griever in front of him. Her Griever threw a spear like object at her and she moved just in time, her breathing laboured.
"Shucks." she whispered, fear engulfing her as the Griever's knife pulled back, aiming straight for her chest. It powered through the air and she swore she felt time stop as her blurred vision made out Minho's shocked, aghast face and his shout of denial. Closing her eyes, she waited for inevitable death.
Seconds passed and nothing happened. Someone barrelled into her side, their breaths softly hitting her ear as they clutched her as if she was their lifeline. Minho.
"Shucking hell girlie." he said, his voice hoarse, panting, "Scared the klunk outta me there."
Opening her eyes, she caught sight of the lump of machinery that had once been a Griever, "What happened?"
Minho shrugged, "No clue. But we gotta go, come on. You alright?"
She nodded, blinking away dizziness, stumbling up to her feet as Minho watched her walk to the Cliff edge, looking back at the carnage behind her, before resolve painted her features and she leapt through the air, disappearing into nothing. Newt followed and Minho jumped through last, his heart pounding with anticipation.
The room was dark and stuffy, filled with excited whispers and whimpers of pain and grief, but Minho elbowed his way to the front where Thomas' figure stood next to his sister's and Newt's.
"Minho!" Thomas greeted, relief flooding his face, "You good?"
"Shucking great." Minho replied shortly, and despite the fact that he was bleeding pretty much everywhere, he meant it. Adira shot him a pained smile as she leant against her brother. He was by her side in a flash, transferring her weight to himself.
"Hurt yourself bad didn't ya?" he whistled and she rolled her eyes, steadying herself as best as she could. Her leg was shaking, her entire back was bruised and her head was spinning slightly. How Minho had gotten away without even limping confused her.
"Not my best." she admitted faintly, "I was running on the adrenaline."
"I think most of these shanks were." Minho said grimly, turning back to see most of the Gladers in similar conditions to Adira.
"How many people?" Newt called out slightly hesitantly and Adira turned, counting.
"Twenty one." she said in a dull, shocked voice and Thomas swallowed roughly. Minho's lips flattened into a thin line and Newt looked like he'd been slapped.
"Half."
No one said anything for a moment before Newt's voice cut the silence.
"Dunno about the rest of ya, but I want to get out this bloody room as quickly as shucking possible."
There were murmurs of agreement and Adira pointed to the long tunnel ahead of them, unable to say anything as another spell of dizziness hit her out of nowhere. Minho frowned.
"Down there maybe?" he suggested, agreeing to be her voice temporarily. Thomas nodded in agreement and the boys started going down through to the room, hesitant but determined.
"It's a shuck slide." Minho observed, his voice cold with shock. She grimaced, but pulled herself away from him. It seemed anti climatic after the chaotic slaughter than had taken place not even ten minutes ago.
"I'll go down first." she volunteered, straightening herself out. Minho quirked his eyebrow questioningly and she nodded in reassurance, striding to the opening of the black tube, heart hammering like a jackhammer in her chest.
The inside was greasy, the smell awfully reminiscent of the Grievers' distinctive oily odour and she flew down the chute, the darkness all encompassing, time stopping as she whirled down the tight bends. Nausea swelled in her throat and she groaned as someone's feet brushed her head, the ride down the chute apparently never ending. An image of hungry Grievers waiting for her at the other end of the tube made her heart rate stagger upwards.
The opening was suddenly in front of her and she landed ungracefully on her injured back. Groaning again, she turned over to empty out the contents of her stomach, staggering to her feet as her cheek throbbed. Newt was there, his machete clutched in his hand as he limped heavily to her side, eyes scanning their new surroundings before they froze, widening on a specific sight.
"Look there, Ad."
She swivelled around, rubbing at her eyes and wincing as her fingers brushed past grazes on her skin. Her blood ran cold as the white coated, clinical faces of the WICKED scientists came into view, protected by a glass screen, heads tilted condescendingly as they scribbled furiously on notepads. They looked like robots, like dolls manipulated by someone superior- everyone looked the same, white coated, all lean muscle with sleek haircuts and icy faces.
"The Creators."
The words felt like venom on her tongue and anger like nothing she'd felt before built up behind her eyes, the pressure increasing as the minutes passed. Newt gave her a cautious look before looking around, familiarising himself with the machinery, the shiny white floors, the technology- everything they'd been deprived of for three years.
"Everyone's here." Newt muttered as the boys' mutters of confusion faded into stunned silence. The Creators took more notes. Clenching her fists, she sought for Minho, finding him striding up to her, a murderous look on his face. Even through her own haze of red, she felt a pinprick of fear at the deadly expression decorating his scratched face.
Chuck's innocent voice burst the bubble of shock, "Who are they?"
Minho gave a derisive laugh, his jaw ticking, fists clenching hard, "The Creators, Chuck. The shuckface cowards who put us in the Maze."
Chuck made a small incomprehensible noise and Thomas glanced back at the boy, patting him somewhat awkwardly on the back, but the boy drew in the comfort like an insect flying to a flame, seeking warmth.
"I'm going to shucking kill all of you!" Minho yelled suddenly, the volume of his threat loud and clear, a burst of rage flying from their shell of fearful astonishment. It reminded her of a gamma ray burst and she wondered how she knew what it was in the first place.
The Creators barely reacted, only nodding behind computer screens and she restrained her anger, pulling Minho back by the shoulder. He glanced at her face, the sight of the bruises decorating her pale skin only infuriating him further.
Thomas cleared his throat as if he was pushing aside fear, "What's going on?"
Newt shrugged, "I don't bloody know Tommy. I was expecting you to know, if anyone."
Thomas shook his head mutely and she looked away from the scientists examining them, feeling her fury build to dangerous levels.
"I swear to shuck." Minho muttered, "I'm gonna shucking kill them."
"I'll help." she answered viciously and Minho lowered his gaze from the Creators, his respect for her pushing forward onto his face. Thomas looked preoccupied with simply staring. It was different for him. He'd been there for a short time, while she and Minho were veterans of the place, one of the firsts to lose everything. Shock was temporary for them; they were consumed with fiery flames of anger.
A loud beep boomed through the air and she jumped, startled, the Gladers automatically retracting to a clump, trembling and shaking with anticipation and anxiety. Everything was happening too fast, the noises, the atmosphere, the people. But they couldn't stop now.
A noise like rushing air interrupted the bleak ringing and they turned, startled to see two figures walk into the room; a white coated scientist with powdery makeup and dark brown hair pulled into a severe bun and a taller, cloaked figure. She was struck by how normal she looked, if you ignored her soulless gaze- black, tailored trousers and a sage green vest jumper, covering a formal white dress shirt. It was more official than anything she could remember, so different to the rags they wore in the Glade. Shucks, she'd had one set of clothes for three entire years while the Creators were strutting around in luxurious cashmere and lotus silk.
"Who the shuck are you?" Minho spat and the woman walked forwards, ignoring his question, her heels clicking in an annoying fashion.
"I said, who the shuck are you?" Minho barked, his anger clearly visible. She wondered how the woman could look him in the eye.
"Patience, A7. I remember you have been punished for impatience before." she said emotionlessly.
Minho didn't miss a beat, "Well, I don't remember. None of us do. Cos of you ugly shanks."
The woman fixed her eyes on Adira, causing a cold chill to run down her spine as her blood lips curved into a sinister smile, before she was looking away, addressing everyone.
"Welcome back, Group A." she started, "Good to see you well after three years. And so few dead. Quite remarkable."
Newt frowned indignantly, "Excuse me?"
"Subject A5." the woman smiled and Newt glared back, "Congratulations. You made it out. Of course, we'd never expected…"
"Look, lady, we're done here." Minho cut in tensely, "Thanks, but we're bored with the shuck riddles."
The woman merely shook her head, before she was reaching to her side and pulling back the hood of the cloaked figure, her movements choreographed and robotic. Adira's breathing stopped as Gally's guilty, teary face came into view, red and bruised on one side like he'd been hit with a slab of metal. Hard.
"Gally?" Thomas asked, his voice a quiet gasp. The boy refused to look at anyone in the eye.
"What is he doing here?" Minho barked and the woman's eyes flickered upwards as if she was seconds away from losing her composure. Adira had a strange urge to laugh- if anyone knew how irritating Minho could get, it was her.
"I suggest you calm down, Subject A7. A top candidate like you should be better, especially after the Trials."
Minho bristled, physically growing bigger as he looked seconds away from beating the living daylights out of the woman if it wasn't for Adira's steadying hand on his shoulder. She wanted to know why Gally looked like klunk, as if he'd been through hell and back and judging by Thomas' intense look of question, he thought the same.
"Gally," Newt started, his voice purposefully soft, "why are ya here shank, with them? We thought you were dead, mate."
Gally didn't reply, his eyes glazing over momentarily, before returning back to normal. Minho's grip on her hand tightened for a split second and she knew he'd seen it too, the same phenomenon that had driven George to his demise. WICKED had Gally in their control.
"That, Subject A5," the woman said, "is explained by the Last Variable."
There was silence for a few moments, a barely detectable struggle on Gally's face before he reached into his pocket, pulled out a deadly silver blade and hurled it in Thomas' direction, the knife point glimmering as the light played on its surface.
"No!"
She was moving before she had fully grasped the situation, but someone got there before her, spreading their chest to the knife, saving her brother but allowing the metal to spear their heart. Thomas' face registered the movements, looking down at the young face of Chuck, the boy's puffed cheeks losing their usual colour, replaced by deathly white. Choking filled the air, blood spotting the ground, a pool gathering next to the boy.
Thomas dropped, agony torn from his throat, "Chuck!"
A sob stuck in her throat, eyes dry, but shock freezing her entire body as the crimson red bloomed across the young boy's front, an ominous pattern painting the canvas of destruction. Another scream flew out of Thomas' mouth, tears dropping fast onto Chuck's struggling chest, his shaking hands reaching up to the boy who had given him the gift of friendship and compassion.
A few strangled words came out of Chuck's mouth and Thomas cried harder, shoulders shaking as he nodded maniacally to whatever the child was saying, hands painted in the scarlet. Unblinking, she stared disbelievingly as his breathing expired, his body failed, his eyes turned off.
Chuck was dead.
He was so young, so new and fresh in the dirty hopelessness of the Glade, had witnessed hardships, loneliness, pain and death of others and finally himself. The chapter of his life had been unbelievably short, stained with tears and blood. No child needed to go through that.
She willed her feet to move to her brother, but Thomas was up, fists clenched, tears running down his cheeks as he jumped straight onto Gally, fists pummelling the boy's face with no mercy. She didn't want to stop him. She wanted Gally to feel pain like Chuck had felt every time he'd belittled the younger boy, made fun of him and threw a knife straight into his innocent flesh.
Newt and Minho, however, knew better than to watch Thomas try and murder Gally and they pulled him back, ignorant of his flailing limbs, the screams of hatred spewing from his throat. Sobs were wrenched out of his chest as he lay limp against their holds before cradling Chuck's body, his blood staining his shirt a deep purple. No one moved, transfixed by the brutality of the entire murder.
"Thomas." Teresa bent down but Thomas shrugged her away, shakily laying Chuck's still body on the cold floor, wiping off his tears and staring at the body. Teresa moved away, a flash of sadness creasing her forehead.
"Thomas." Adira called out, bending to speak directly to him, "Come on up."
He listened this time, standing up by himself. Teresa came up to his side, offering her hand in comfort. He took it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit her lip as Newt's hand pulled her back, gently wiping away a tear that had dropped from his eye. Pain lanced her soul, whipping her broken body into ash.
Minho looked blank, his eyes never shifting from the thirteen year old's lifeless corpse. Shock sowed their lips shut, the needle of grief securing their mouths, leaving their voices pained and quiet.
Suddenly a loud commotion interrupted their grieving stillness, gunshots echoing, screams cut short as an armed group of men and woman dressed in combat gear broke through the doors. The WICKED scientist stumbled back, face whitening, glancing at the glass screen frantically. Two men pinned her down and before long, a bloom of red flowered on her white coat, matching Chuck's.
Adira stumbled back, cautious for any glass as the invaders shot through the screen, scientists dropping down as the pistols and rifles fired erratically. Fear inspired her heart as a built man approached them, the flexing of his muscles visible even under his clothes.
"No time to waste, follow us." he said hurriedly, dark eyes roving over their tired, injured faces, "Just trust us, kids. We're on your side."
Something like panic swelled in them all and they were sprinting, running outside through the door the rescuers had burst through, guns blazing. Her back strained but she pushed forward as the rescuers followed behind and in front of them, urging them to run faster with the butts of their guns. A massive bus idled for them, its metal scratched like their bodies, bruised and dented.
"Get on, hurry!" a woman screamed, her voice high pitched and urgent as Adira threw herself up the stairs, collapsing in one of the seats as the Gladers scrambled up the stairs, panic fuelling them forwards.
The bus was starting up as Minho and Thomas pushed Newt up, the latter limping heavily as he secured a seat opposite her, breathing heavy. Thomas joined them, next to Newt and Minho took his seat beside her just as the bus lurched forward, skidding slightly across the tarmac, the engine revving loudly. Gripping the sides of the seats, she watched as Thomas shouted something through the din, a horrified expression on his face. The bus went over a bump and Thomas' face whitened.
The bus didn't stop, racing forward until WICKED felt far away, distant from the busy images blurring through the windows. Thomas' curious face stayed trained on the windows , carefully examining the mess of lights and fires. Minho's hand was securely wrapped in her own, a vaguely comfortable silence taking over them.
A woman approached them, her combat trousers the same but wearing a plain, short sleeved white top instead, with a dark blue beanie crowning the crop of long, reddish brown hair. Thomas didn't waste a second.
"What's going on?" he asked, pleading, "Tell us, please."
The woman's lips turned down in sympathy but she shook her head, "If you got the time, kid. And trust me, it's long."
"I've got plenty time." Thomas said, his face wide with curiosity, "Please."
The woman sighed, adopting a faraway look, "Started with the sun flares, ruined everything first didn't it? Mass solar ejections tend to do that, y'know?"
Teresa had joined them and she looked like she wanted to interrupt, but she shut her mouth as Thomas glanced at her quickly.
"Food was gone and everything was all burnt up, so there wasn't any land to grow crops, to feed everyone, people were getting hungry, everyone was losing everything and it didn't help that something was spreading. The Flare."
She paused deliberately as if they were meant to gasp, but no one knew anything to feel the significance of her words.
"We think it came from some of the hardy insects that survived the sun flares. People were hungry, y'know? So when they ate 'em the sickness transferred to humans." she shook her head, "It doesn't matter how it came about. Ultimately, the Flare spread everywhere and no one can control it."
She paused, her dark eyes heavy with an emotion they couldn't make out, "There's no cure."
"It kills your humanity." the woman continued, her voice tight, "It stays in your brain and before long, you ain't a human but an animal. 'Round the equator, it's just wasteland full of savages."
"That's why WICKED was made," the woman snorted, "to find a cure. They took some kids who'd been orphaned and had passed certain tests so that they could help them. Only, they're real cruel- you saw, they put you kids up in the Mazes or whatever."
Shaking her head, she looked up, eyes earnest, "We hate them, hate them for what they did to you kids. We want to bring them down, there's no cure and there never will be. They're scrambling at rocks, but they're on the edge of a cliff."
Adira frowned sharply, mulling over the woman's words, questions firing rapidly in her mind as she tried to understand what they'd all stepped into. A burnt wasteland, riddled with animals in the form of humans with a deadly disease flying around in the air and psycho scientists intent on resolving humanity's problems. Suddenly, their escape from the Maze seemed insignificant, borderline wrong.
The woman walked away, giving her a sympathetic smile that only served to irritate instead of comfort and she fixed her gaze outside the window, feeling her eyelids dropping.
"Hey, get up, love."
A gentle shove on her shoulder broke her slumber and she rubbed sleep from her eyes, immediately rising to attention as she noticed the lack of noise from the bus's engine and the whistling wind. Newt grinned at the sudden alertness on her features before he was shaking Minho awake too.
"Where are we?" Thomas muttered, standing up and she followed, wincing as her entire body protested against movement.
"No shuck clue." Minho replied, making a move out of his seat, encouraged as a man with a long rifle gestured for him to come through the aisle, "Guess we'll find out."
Following him quickly, she paced down the bus, curiosity building as the image of an unassuming, squat, brick building came into view, drenched by recent rain and decorated with white paint that had long since decayed to a yellowish brown. There was no forestry on the sides, plain mud being the only surface for miles around.
"Tourist destination right there." she said quietly and Minho gave a short laugh in response to her wisecrack.
"Buggin' beautiful." Newt said, rolling his eyes, "But anything's better than the Maze at this point. Though I don't understand how an incurable virus going around is meant to make us feel any better."
Adira nodded, agreeing with the blonde's words, "Seems stupid to think we didn't know any of this before we made it out."
"Still can't believe we're out at all." Newt said, shaking his head as they walked through the front door, a sturdy black steel construction that set her on edge. It seemed out of place with the abandoned nature of the building.
An explosion of homely, faded colour greeted them, different to WICKED's preferred tones of whites, blacks and greys. There were no visible windows, covered by worn floral curtains and the walls were a pale blue, dotted with grey as the paint peeled. It was a dorm of sorts, massive bunk beds lining the walls with fresh white sheets and small sets of drawers next to each installment. There were twenty beds, steel poles connecting the one on the bottom to the top, distinctive from the ancient preserved atmosphere of the rest of the building. White tile covered the floor and the air conditioning felt foreign on her skin, too cold compared to the hot sun they'd all adapted to as they were herded down to the large empty area in front of the beds.
"Those beds look better than anything WICKED gave us." Newt said sagely, as if it solidified his opinion on their "rescuers".
Minho looked equally elated, but she was more hesitant as the woman informed Teresa and her of their own separate rooms, complete with bathrooms. How did they know the exact numbers and better, how did they know there were two girls? It seemed too good to be true.
"Holy mother of shuckfaced shucks, is that pizza?" Minho asked, his eyes wide as they landed on the cheesy goodness laid out in greasy cardboard boxes. She glanced at Thomas, relieved to find that the darkness that had lingered with him, started to disappear. Food could make anyone feel a little better and Frypan's kitchen duties back in the Glade were proof of that.
Sitting down, they devoured the food- pizza, potato wedges, chips, an assortment of vegetables that were attacked last, topped off with sugary fizzy drinks and water. It wasn't luxurious food, not nutritious at all, but it healed the soul and provided a good deal of energy as their stomachs filled quickly.
"Good dinner?" the woman with the blue beanie chirped, a dazzling smile on her face. The rescuers- only five- flitted around, gathering the waste left behind with no shortage of pitiful smiles and offers of more water. Everything felt like a dream and she finished her food, depositing her plastic plate into the garbage bin a tall young man, only slightly older than her held. He shot her a disarming grin and she returned a jerky one of her own, not expecting the friendliness.
"Ad, sit here." Minho called out and she turned away from the rescuer, frowning lightly as Minho patted his bunk. Slumping down on the soft mattress, she pulled her hair into a bun, sighing as the strands strained. It had been a while since Minho had cut her hair.
"Sweet! There's more blankets and pillows in here." Minho grinned, patting the nightstand approvingly. "What d'ya think? Fit for your standards, dear Leader?"
"Hate to break it to ya, but I've shucking retired." she rolled her eyes as Minho fixed an obstinate glare on her, "But, hey, this place is better than the Maze."
Minho looked content with her answer and Thomas joined them, tired, like he'd been through hell and back. Which wasn't too far from the truth, if they were being honest.
"We're out. This isn't the Maze anymore." he said and she could detect some numbness in his tone, accompanied by disbelief. Newt jumped down from the top bunk of the bed next to Minho's his tall frame approaching them as he snorted.
"Like I said, doesn't seem real."
Minho looked pensive for a few moments, "What d'ya think happened to everyone left behind in the Glade?"
"Maybe got eaten?" Newt suggested, "I dunno, Tommy turned the buggers off."
Thomas looked exhausted, "Maybe they'll die there. It's not like they came out and even if there's no Grievers, there's no food either."
She shrugged, "Who cares? They either make it or not. We have to figure out what's going on now, with us."
Thomas frowned slightly but he nodded, "Yeah, true. These people aren't exactly telling us much. Like they're hiding something."
She was glad someone else had noticed the questionable behaviour of the rescuers, but she also knew they were all willing to let it fly over their heads- exhaustion wasn't even close to describe their states and it wasn't like they could rush out and do anything.
Minho rolled back his head, before resting his elbows on his knees, "Maybe later. I'm tired as shuck, man."
Newt grinned slightly, "Amen to that. I'd sleep for a whole century if I could."
Thomas' eyes glimmered in longing. She pulled him aside for a second as Minho and Newt exchanged conversation, their brows stitched together as they debated the moving forward plan. In the situations they'd been put in, rest hadn't really been an option, and it showed now, as the two boys' restless planning pointed to a need for movement, for action.
"I'm sorry," she said heavily, "for Chuck."
Thomas looked like he'd swallowed lemon juice before he spoke again, his words soft and pained, eyes muted with grief, "He was a good shank- annoying, yes," he smiled slightly before it faded away, "but he deserved better."
"I know." she murmured, "Everyone did, but him out of all of us. Barely shucking thirteen."
Thomas looked down at her, "Why don't you want to be leader anymore?"
The question was sudden but she'd expected it to come from someone. Minho didn't seem to think she was serious but she was glad Thomas could see her sincerity.
"It feels wrong to." she said, unable to put her feelings into words, "I feel like I've done my job. Look after everyone till we get out, and we're out now. Maybe I'll continue being leader just because I'm so used to it, but I just want to…lie low. Now that we're out, we can think about the future but I don't necessarily want to be the one carrying it out, not when I'm the symbol of dark times."
Thomas looked deeply into her cerulean orbs, before he hugged her gently, mindful of her back, "I'm glad we made it out. I'm glad I remembered you are my sister."
"Me too."
Giving one last smile, Thomas nodded to Newt and Minho before he was climbing up the bed, hoisting himself over the railing and onto the mattress.
"Is he okay?" Minho asked, pointing up at the bunk above his.
She looked up at the wooden slats and the white sheets poking through the gaps, "He'll be fine."
He nodded before frowning lightly as the male rescuer called for her and Teresa, his face still holding the grin.
"I'll be back." she muttered and Minho nodded, kissing her forehead as she left. Biting her lip, she managed to stop a smile breaking out onto her face as she approached the man, his smile permanently fixed.
"Bed time." he said, pointing to their room, "Lights off boys!"
He didn't waste any time before placing his hands on their backs and pushing them firmly through the corridor to their quarters, almost forcibly.
"Goodnight!"
A lock turned and she frowned.
Teresa didn't waste a second, getting into bed but Adira was more concerned with finding a way to get back to Minho. Not that she didn't appreciate the bed they'd gotten for her, but she much preferred Minho's embrace than any five star mattress.
"They're nice people." Teresa said and she pushed away her dislike for the girl, opting to converse normally. If they were roommates, they might as well try and get along. Besides, whatever had happened in the past, she didn't even remember. They were different people now, and Thomas was a prime example- the scientist turned lab rat. She didn't fail to see the irony.
"Yeah, they're okay." she replied pausing for a second, "Food was great."
"I can't remember ever having pizza." Teresa said, her voice slightly breathy and rushed as if she was glad Adira had spoken to her. She felt slightly bad after hearing her tone.
Adira shook her head, "Neither. Fry, bless him but he wouldn't make it. Said it wasn't his style or some klunk like that. I think he just didn't know how to make it, but don't tell him I said anything."
Teresa gave a polite smile in return, "His food was good in the Glade. At least, what I tasted."
She grimaced, "He'd make everything but cheese taste good. Nothing could make that shucky cheese taste normal. Oily plastic squares. No one ate them but…but Chuck."
Teresa's face turned to mask of sympathy and she pursed her lips, "I'm tired out. See you in the morning I guess."
"Night."
She didn't reply, waiting for the blue eyed girl's breathing to even out before she picked the lock, opened the door of their room as quietly as humanly possible and tiptoed out into the boys' room, carefully watching for signs of life. The faint smell of sugar had permeated the cloth in the room, making her mouth water at the thought of fizzy drinks.
"Ad?" Minho murmured sleepily as she crawled into the space between him and the wall. His hand automatically moved around her waist and she relished the warmth emanating from her skin, the sparks that burnt for him.
"Hey." she whispered, smiling a little, "Nice to see you. Lookin' good as always."
"Humph." Minho breathed, pulling her closer, "Thought you weren't coming out. My shuck heart broke."
"Aww, baby." she cooed sarcastically, pulling her forehead up to his, "Maybe I can make it feel better?"
Minho grinned widely, "I'm not objecting, Ad."
Someone groaned quietly and she jumped a little as Thomas' head appeared, hanging upside down with a frown on his face, "I can hear every shuck word you're saying. And Minho, man, you're great, but that's my freaking sister." he whispered irritably, before whipping his head up and returning to sleep.
Minho rolled his eyes, tucking rogue strands of hair behind her ears as he wiggled his eyebrows, "Your brother likes me. He thinks I'm great."
She chuckled, "Looks like I've got competition."
"I think he'll kill us if we don't slim it." Minho said as Thomas shifted above them, breathing out a relieved sigh as he stopped moving, "Night shuckette."
Yawning gently, she curled up into his chest, appreciating his warmth as she drifted off, the cold air conditioning never reaching her as she breathed in his familiar smell. Home.
And despite everything WICKED would do to break them, torment them, kill them, her home was within Minho. His grins, his anger, the good and the bad, everything that made him, him, caused her heart to swell in her chest, brought out the best in her, gave her the utmost happiness.
She knew she'd always stay by him and he would always stay by her, no matter what WICKED threw at them.
Because love couldn't be broken by scientists.
Chuck's face drifted through her mind.
Variable X was successful and we are eternally grateful for Subject X and for all other subjects trialled. May Phase two begin, and may it bring us a Cure.
-Ava Paige
This is it.
The last chapter of Phase 1 of Variable X.
It's been a journey writing Phase 1. I've loved every bit of it, genuinely. Every word that has been written in the past 33 chapters has been done with love and joy. I've always loved writing but I've never expected anyone to read it or like it. This has proven me wrong and I'm so grateful for everyone who has shown me love and support throughout this book.
I'll try to keep the sap short.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed this book as much as I enjoyed writing it and I encourage YOU to start something of your own. It doesn't have to be fancy, pretty or public. Just focus on bettering yourself as an individual and gaining knowledge and experience for no one but yourself. In our world, with our school system, we're not given time to focus on the things we love. So we have to be proactive. So, go ahead, read that book that's been on your list for months, write that scene you've been dreaming about. Little things bring us joy and I hope that by writing this (my first book ever!), I've not only given you a pleasant past time, but that I've inspired you to pursue the things you love and to stay strong in the face of adversity.
- We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.
CHARACTER ANALYSIS:
So, Adira. Why her? What is her significance?
As my OC, I had a lot to play with.
First off, her name means bravery and loyalty, something that was intrinsic to her as a character trait. It took me a while to come up with a name for her because originally, I wanted to base her off classical mythology but I decided against it. I wanted to create a female character who was strong, but realistically so. Often, when writer's go for the typical "strong woman", they omit the tears and the pain. This is wrong. Real people cry. Real people suffer. And they feel. In no ways is this weakness.
Secondly, I wanted a character that knew her priorities. This fanfic is meant to be a romance, but there's still highly important things going around our two lovebirds, things that are greater than them only, things that affect everyone. I wanted a character who knew that she had responsibility she couldn't shirk off and who didn't dive into a relationship because her heart told her to. I wanted Adira to be logical and rational, and I really hope that message has come across. Women lack the representation of being blunt, to-the-point and unapologetic while still being allowed to grieve and shed tears.
Thirdly, I wanted to demonstrate her as a person. There was a reason this romance was EXTREMELY slow burn. Setting up Adira as a character and allowing you readers to establish a connection, or at the very least, understand her persona was so, so, so important to me. She is Minho's lover, yes, but she's also so much more. She's his rock, yes, but she's also her own character. I hope you've connected with her.
Fourthly, I love her. She's my creation. She's the vision I had when I thought of a female character in the Glade. She's strong. She's fiercely loyal. She's responsible. She loves. The Glade isn't an easy place to survive, so she HAD to toughen up. As much as I (and she) love(s) Minho, she still had a Glade to run and people to look after. Their love is a representation of a relationship trope that I feel has been forgotten. They're together, yes, and they're EXTREMELY in tune with one another. But that doesn't bind them into one unit. They are their own people.
I hope you loved her as I did.
And then Minho. Oh, we all love him in the books. Good looking- check. Wit and humour- check. Loyalty- check. He's got everything.
I changed him slightly here, maybe not noticeable at all. In the OG books, he's brasher, less reserved but in my interpretation, he's only willing to open up to people he trusts. He's naturally suspicious and he only transforms into himself truly, when he's with Newt, Ad or Thomas.
The effect of this?
Character development and relationship development.
I've portrayed him in a more "lone wolf" light, more introverted because otherwise, I feel that he wouldn't have survived. Why? He has a heart. He does care, very deep down, even if it's only for very specific things. And this is shown best when he loses control of his anger- his emotions flow over and he cannot be calmed. As a Runner, our boy was facing very lonely hours, something that I personally think someone more people orientated, like Newt, would suffer with.
Furthermore, this unwilingness to socialise is somewhat his other fatal flaw besides his anger. He wouldn't have survived without his friends- it's a simple fact. Sure, he'd go on for a while, but loneliness is the true poison in the Glade. He's a smart guy- he knew that. But he's also stubborn. He's not perfect. He has his flaws. And I wanted to show that it's okay to not love meeting people and talking to everyone, especially when you were weight down with the things Minho was weighed down by. Running isn't easy.
And the Maze. How could we not talk about the Maze, the place Minho has spent more time in than any other. It's his priority. To get out. It's his motivation and his drive, something he never truly gives up on. And this sets him apart from Adira and even Newt. Although a Keeper, he doesn't quite have the same kind of responsibility Adira does. His focus is getting them out and her's is keeping them safe and alive. I think that this is a concept that becomes more apparent and maybe even slightly problematic in Phase 2, but as I said, Minho's smart. He'll learn from the person he loves most and the person who has the most experience out of everyone with leadership.
Other than this change, I tried to preserve his original character in the best way I could. There's changes, obviously, but I hope I've done Minho justice.
And our favourite blonde, Newt.
He's a tragic character. There's no particular reason to hide that he dies later on and I've alluded to this several times throughout Phase 1. We can draw some parallels between him and classical heroes but I could write an essay on that.
So how did I shape him?
He's rational and logical, something that suits him for being second in command. A quick point I'd like to make is that he's eerily similar to Adira in terms of how I phrase his traits. I mean, "logical and rational" is something I always correlate with all four of them, though of course, in varying levels. Why? These guys are top candidates, the best of the best and they're all in some form of leadership position, so it only makes sense to make them share some traits.
Back to Newt.
He represents that pain is okay. He cries and he hurts, a lot. But that's okay. It's normal. And of course, he represents strength. He battles with severe mental health problems and reflecting back on this, I wish I made it more obvious. Because even after he jumped, he was still hurting. He still had his off days. And I wished I made that more apparent.
He is also Adira's closest friend. And I think that their relationship is one of the purest in the book. I love their dynamic and the love they have for each other. Even compared to the friendship she had with Minho, Newt was special. He was the first face she saw, the first person she'd seen in a month and that is pretty damn special.
He represents loyalty, strength and courage.
And Thomas.
I'd love to do an entire character analysis on him but I haven't established his character quite enough to do this yet. I'm still shaping him, to be frank, and I wish I could share all my ideas but that would ruin everything.
If you've come this far, thanks for reading, really. Not many people write character analysis notes in their work, but I find it fascinating.
QUICK NOTE: I WILL BE UPDATING PHASE TWO ON THIS BOOK. I'VE ALREADY WRITTEN 4 CHAPTERS, SO THERE WILL BE NO DELAY IN UPDATING!
THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Exeunt, Phase 1.