Disclaimer: I don't own the Maze Runner Series

Chapter Three:

'Can you hear me?' There a voice in my head unfamiliar and distant. It was neither Thomas or Teresa.

'Who are you?' I reply skeptically, not willing to convey anylonger if they fail to identify.

'A friend,' the voice said just as mysterious when it entered my mind.

'I don't have many friends that can do this, nice try!'

'Alright, you got me. But I do have a meassage for you.'

'Which is exactly?' asking a bit exacerbated, that someone could call to me from this dark place.

'WICKED IS GOOD!" The voice said dragging each syllable with a sharp lisp, scratching across my head like sandpaper.

'Who are you, really?'

'An adversary. I look forward to our play time.'

There was no reply after that. Whoever they were it didn't matter, but what did was the fact WICKED is somehow still opperating. It would be obvious giving the time and effort to put us through the Maze. They must be everywhere. Pushing WICKED aside, for once the darkness is still and calm. Everything was sublime up till recently, slightly dead yet alive. Blissful oblivion washing away this anxiety of mine. A dreamscape of absolute nothingness. I'll wake when my body ready. Soon dreams take hold.

A indoor garden, more like a underground terrarium. Spacious area full of Fawn and Flora encamped a sizeable area of the facility. Younger versions of myself and friends are running around enjoying the free time. Newt and Alby are playing hide and seek, Teresa is sitting by the only tree that's area that's over twenty feet high, she has a book in hand. Gally and Frypan are climbing the tree to see who can go the highest. I was to scarred to climb. I've seen Fry sprain his hand before. Thomas and I we're pretending to have a sword fight with sticks. Our little scuffle sends us falling into Teresa. Her face scrunches for a second while turning red. As Thomas and I are rolling around the floor keeping her pinned. Suddenly her face boils to a point that's she shouts.

"Strike, you're both out!"

"Wrong game Tres," Thomas says laughing

"That's baseball dummy," I add as the two of us dust off our white apparel. We're all in clad white clothes.

Getting up I see that Gally is higher up in the tree as he holding on a branch whilst leaning forward. He's at least half way up. Suddenly Newt runs pass as I jerk out the way, as his hand lands on Thomas shoulder.

"Tag you're it Thomas," Newt says hurrying away.

"I thought you were playing hide and seek," Thomas said chasing after him when his hands eventually taps mine."Tag you're it Ross!"

"No fair I wasn't even playing!" I whine as we chase one another. So after everyone joins in. For a time it is fun, but a tall man his face nearly in shadow collects us. Our free time is up. Unfortunately we do as we're told, and follow him back into the main area for our training to continue.

X

Seconds, Moments, Hours, Days, Weeks, seem to pass, but I'm probably wrong, maybe only short instances have come and gone. There isn't a way to tell. It's become dreamless again, I find myself bored, irate. Seemlessly uncomfortable to wake up. I couldn't be dead, there be no resemblance of consciousness. I just want to wake up, find my friends and carry on from there. By the looks of things, it was apparent I was really banged up. I was worse for ware from escaping the Maze. So much happened back to back in the same day, I guess it's finally catching up with me.

If I'm meant to be dead then pull the shucking cord. If it meant I be stuck in a wakeless dismal state of disrepair, I rather choose death. Anything could be happening to my friends, and this person who entered my mind was an enigma in it's own right. I'm begging give me death or wake me up. If neither return me to my dreams of long ago. Anything, anything then this bounded chasm of uncertainty.

Still nothing, nada. Tedious eons of wakelessness march one by one, we're all link as tiny sands in a hour glass, and I'm just a atom of the sand neither knowing if I'm waiting to descend or if I'm already at the bottom. This is what wasting away feels like, uneventful monotony, incandescent fury for this tedium.

I'm rambling on again, its the desperation talking. I want to be submerged in apathy. I beg for mercy, sweet release. My prayers and convoluted wishes lay unanswered unfulfilled. Deaf ears, deaf ears my ramblings go on. And yet, suddenly the tranishing feeling of despair reciedes as I'm feeling alive, soon I shall awake. This time I hope it lasts.