Society is gone. Scorching fires from the sun wiped out farms, cities, and dried up many important lakes. Some escaped on prototype space ships to desolate planets but the rest were left behind thirty years ago. Humanity tried to recover but bloodshed and war is unending.

Then, something bizarre happened. People got super powers.

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An organization called Wicked saw this as a chance to reestablish lost time. They created an academy to hone people's powers. In return for shelter, food, and clean water, they'd go out into the wastelands full of mutated terrors and bandits, and reclaim territories.

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Thomas is transferred there after living years in the dusty, unpleasant deserts. It used to be a town covered in beautiful woodlands. Or so the survivors say. Hardly any manmade or natural relics of the past endured the apocalypse.

He's scrawny from living on nothing. Sipping on scarce drops of fresh water and eating small animals. Thomas' past is as weathered and torn as his tattered clothes.

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Looking out the train window, Thomas is stunned. It's been forever since he's seen any working technology. There's trees! Flowers! Cars! Fountains of clear water! Farms! What was it that the guards called it? Greenhouses? Thomas wants to explore Wicked city but he can feel the guards' sharp glares. They're practically prodding him with their spears and guns. Other passengers eye him frightfully.

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The train hissed to a stop. Thomas is escorted by guards towards Wicked Academy. A man in a lab coat greeted him. He looked stern. The scientist's smile is cold. "Welcome to Wicked Academy. What's your name?"

"Thomas."

"Yes. Okay. I'm a doctor. Once everything is in order and the paperwork sorted, you'll get a dorm and be a part of Wicked's army."

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"Dustbag. Go that way." A guard pointed to a corridor. "The academy facilities are that way."

Dressed in new clothes and haircut, Thomas marched down the hall. The metal hums. Small windows the size of a disc cast blinding sunlight. Entering the main room, the roof is made of glass, and there's flags marking doorways.

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Thomas finds three teens his age. One with short, fashionable dark hair wearing metal arm and leg armor is drawing in a book. Another is resting on a window seat, eyes closed, and humming a tune. The third –is handsome. His light-orange hair obscures passionate, kind blue eyes. He's watering a bunch of plants surrounding his side of the dorm.

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"Hey, we got the new greenie." The dark-haired teen jumps up and grins. "I'm Minho. That's Alby and Newt."

Alby waved.

Newt limped over. His leg is intertwined with yellow flowers and vines.

"What's your name greenie?" Alby asked.

"Thomas."

"How's the world outside?" Minho chuckled. "Still lifeless?"

"Yeah."

Newt hadn't said a word and instead smiled sweetly. Thomas was about to speak when Minho excitedly paced back and forth. "What's your super power?" Minho eyed him, as if he'd be able to tell what it was just by studying Thomas.

Alby sat up and shook his head. "First thing Minho, he's got to learn about the rules here at Wicked."

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Alby quickly explained how things worked at Wicked Academy. He's the leader of the survey army. Each person trains for combat and support, but not all go out into the wastelands. Alby, Newt, and Minho invite Thomas to the training room.

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"What're your powers?" Thomas hadn't seen many people with powers when living in the wastelands. Bandits relied on weapons.

Alby snapped his fingers and Thomas felt his neck mechanically move so that he faced him. "I can make people focus on me, or anything I want them to focus on."

"Minho?"

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow and confidently grinned. "I never get lost."

Thomas snorted humorously. "Is that really even a super power?"

He staggered, acting offended. "Yeah, it is greenie."

"With Minho we've lost fewer people in the wastelands." Alby said. "What about you, Thomas?"

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Another group entered, cheering and cursing loudly. A muscular teen leads wearing a belt full of tools and blueprints.

"Gally? Ben? Didn't think you'd join us today."

"Shut it shuckface. Of course we are."

"We're curious about the greenie's powers." Ben muttered.

"Well greenie?" Gally crossed his arms.

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Clearly there's tension. Gally narrowed his eyes, looking for a challenge.

Nonchalantly Thomas started running. Gally snorted, unamused. But Thomas surprised everybody when he easily just walked up the wall and around, and soon he's a just a smudge in their vision. He stood still and smiled. "How's that?"

He scowled. "Super speed? Pathetic. What're you going to do? Run from danger?"

"Yes."

"Anyone with a power or not can help us Gally." Newt reasoned. Being a compassionate being, Newt never let something groundless go on. He knows Gally is arrogant.

Ben laughed. "Tell that to Frypan or Chuck. Poor shuckfaces don't have anything."

.

Alby broke up the tension, silencing everyone. No one disrespected him and nobody dared fight around him either. "They carry their weight like everyone else here. So slim it."

Ben shut his mouth yet glared furiously at Alby. He wanted to protest but Gally gave him a strict look. "We gotta repair vehicles for our next time in the wastelands."

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Thomas feels displaced as he sits in a shadowy corner for lunch. He's been alone for so long and now he's thrown into a bustling society it's shocking.

Lunch trays clatter loudly and he sees Minho, Newt, and Chuck sit next to him.

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"Excited for your first bone-chilling mission greenie?" Minho asked.

He shrugged. "I've seen most of the wastelands. The only things that are new are the monsters."

Minho blinked. "Right. You were born out there. What was it like before joining Wicked?"

"Minho!" Newt hissed.

"It's okay," Thomas laughed. "What do you guys want to know?"

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"Hey Newt!" Thomas visited a greenhouse. He had stopped to pack some supplies for the mission. Over the past few weeks he, Minho, Newt, and Chuck became good friends. Newt smiled, his eyes focused on his gardening.

Plants, flowers, and trees flourish. Sunlight highlights vibrant colors. Water pours from beautiful stone fountains.

.

"Hi Thomas. I put supplies in backpacks for you."

"You're not going on the mission?" He asked, surprised.

Newt's smile waned slightly. The painful melancholy conveyed is obvious. "Not going."

"Why?"

"My leg. Has a permanent limp."

Thomas wondered how that had happened but didn't ask. It's probably an agonizing memory for Newt. "Did the doctors and scientists say you can't go on missions?"

"Yeah," he laughed sadly. "Not anymore."

.

"But," he shook his head and scooped soil into new bins. "It isn't all bad. Found my super power. And," Newt took a deep breath. "I'm happy here."

Thomas believed that he was half lying. He grabbed the backpacks, paused a moment, and then looked back at Newt. "When I come back, I'll help you with the greenhouse."

Newt gave a hearty thumbs-up.

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Thomas gaped at the machines Gally and his builders made. Heavy armored vehicles! He's only seen rusty bones of cars. Gally grinned. "Impressive ain't it greenie? We'll see if you'll be as useful."

"Alby, can you let Newt go on this mission?"

He sputtered and eyed Thomas as if he was half man, half fish. "Can't."

"He'd put the rest of us in danger with his limp." Gally said.

"And we don't want him to get hurt." Minho pointedly added, glaring at Gally.

"But Newt has a super power. And he…he really wants to help us."

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Minho bit his lip, bitter memories resurfacing. He saw Alby look away. He was there too that day. Alby held Thomas' gaze a moment. "Fine. Only for this mission. And if he gets hurt I'm gonna-"

"I'll protect Newt."

Gally is confused. "Are you really gonna let the greenie make decisions?"

"Just watch over each other like we've always done and we'll be fine. Okay everyone, let's go."

Thomas smiled, and ran to tell Newt the good news.

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Metal beetles glint in harsh sunlight as they sprint across the dusty wastelands. Minho's voice crackles over the radio. "This area is new."

"I'm sensing three pings on the radar," Gally said.

"Bandits?" Alby asked.

"No, grievers."

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Gally scoffed. "Three tiny grievers? This'll be easy!"

"It could be a trap." Alby informed.

Thomas understands how the grievers work. "Alby's right."

The area is enclosed by tall hilltops. A dusty glade. The weak grievers travel in packs but usually ambush their food. "There are people here."

"What? My machines sensors don't-"

"More grievers are going to attack us from above from the hilltops!"

"How do you-"

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Exiting the vehicle he runs towards the smaller grievers who scream and roll but are reluctant to chase Thomas.

"What're you doing?!" Alby's voice rings in his ears.

"Just leave him behind!" Gally shouted.

"Thomas! Get back to the vehicle! They're built to destroy grievers!"

"There are people trapped in the griever nest!" Thomas replied.

"Griever nest?!"

"Distract the big ones! I'm going to save them!"

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Bone-chilling screams thunder overhead in the muggy desert. Giant grievers, armored and venomous, roll down from the hilltops. "Those guys spit poison quills. Deadlier than a bite."

"What do we do, Alby?!"

"Defend Thomas! Circle him with our vehicles!"

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A whirlwind of dust creates cover. Thomas wields an axe made to effortlessly slice grievers. His powers make him weightless as he jumps and stabs one before sliding into the underground nest.

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The familiar stench of rot and death makes him vomit. Even a few feet below the surface darkness overshadows everything in eerie murkiness. Quickly. Find the-

Thomas jumps, startled. Three pairs of terrified eyes stare at him.

"You injured? Let's go!"

"But-"

A small griever lunged at Thomas, its jaws and serrated teeth flashing inches from his arm. He brutally heaves his weapon in its face and shouted, "C'mon! We gotta escape!"

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The four climbed out of the nest as Thomas guarded them past hissing winds and to the roaring vehicles. The big grievers ran into or leapt onto the armored trucks, slicing metal. The entire area is a deafening battleground. Spikes narrowly miss them as they run. Thomas saw another griever charging at them and he's hurled violently into the air. Griever spikes fly. He narrowly dodges several but three the length of his arm, stab him.

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Painfully he lands on the ground and coughs up blood. The pain is nerve-wracking. His hearing is muffled –his friends' frantic panic is ignored as Thomas shouts, he sees blood dripping from the wounds. The poison is already affecting him. The world is a soundless and dreary place. Thomas' vision darkens, and from what little he can see, it's a revolting purple-yellow.

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Newt's jaw dropped. He wordlessly ran-limped over to the medical station and shakily grabbed a med kit. He threw open the metal door and jumped out of the vehicle, which the three people had entered. Minho shouted that Newt stay, but he ignored his friend and hurriedly sprinted towards Thomas –and two grievers that loomed over him.

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They turned, their unnerving faces gleefully seeing a new target. Newt bravely dove, hearing the grievers' sinister otherworldly screams.

"Newt!"

Suddenly, the glade became a vibrant forest. Gnarled branches exploded from the earth and punctured the grievers' tough armor. Purple-black blood pours out from the monsters, which desperately try to break free from their botanical prison. The stronger grievers hiss and scream as carnivorous plants latch onto them, acid slowly corroding the dreadful monsters.

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Minho, Gally, and Alby are surprised. "No way…" Everyone quickly leaves the vehicles and run to their friends.

Newt gave Thomas a syringe of antitoxin. He hoped it was enough. Tears sting his eyes as he holds Thomas. His skin is pale, and his breath waning. Newt's beautiful features furrow in distress. "You reckless slinthead! Please…please be okay!"

The others despondent gaze landed briefly on them, before Alby gave orders. "Quickly, make a camp. Minho, help me get the medical station set up."

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Thomas couldn't open his eyes at first. They felt heavy. His whole body felt heavy. With a lot of effort he opens his eyes and immediately hisses. The sunset's intense scorching light hurts his eyes. He can smell meat cooking and hears a crackling campfire. Every breath is painful. But Thomas slowly sits up.

.

Where are they? Hadn't they been in a dusty glade?

"Thomas?"

Minho, Gally, and Alby look over at him. Newt chucked the supplies he was carrying and ran over to him. He's incoherent and crying, but Thomas doesn't mistake his bright smile.

"You're alive!"

Thomas calmly eyed his surroundings and then smiled at Newt. "Thanks to you."

Laughing, Newt hugged Thomas. The strong and captivating scent of flora hits Thomas' nose –and for the first time in years, he cried.

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"Don't you two shuckfaces leave me out! You guys are lucky you aren't griever food. Who would I have to annoy back at Wicked?" Minho grinned, hugging his two friends.

Gally frowned. "That was reckless greenie. You could've gotten us killed. Luckily Newt saved us."

"Thomas saved three people, Gally." Minho said. "People that can help us."

Alby sighed, but they can tell from a small smile he was happy too. "That venom is lethal. I don't know how but you made it. We only had three antidotes. You won't be going on missions for a while. You were reckless but you did save three people. Next time, let us make a plan first. Tomorrow, we're going back to Wicked. Gally, Minho, you two keep watch."

Newt helped Thomas stand and together they walked to the campfire. Minho talked and talked while excitedly eating food, as the stars blaze cheerfully in the night.