Season One, Episode Eleven: Wicked
She was standing in an empty corridor, her feet bare against the cold metal. She stared at the mirror in front of her, as if she felt the action could somehow change the reflection she saw there. What they were doing was wrong, wasn't it? The world was indeed an unforgiving place, but people were just as cruel.
With a trembling hand, she touched the mirror, then her face. It came back wet from the tears she didn't know had fallen. With a sudden, steely resolve she straightened and wiped the remaining tears away. She put on her fiercest expression and despite the pounding of her heart inside her ears, she whispered the familiar words: "Wicked is good."
Elizabeth gasped and meant to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit her and she groaned instead. Blinking, she tried to figure out where she was. The taste of metal was on her tongue, but she wasn't sure why.
"You're up, then?" She startled at the voice and turned her head to see who it was.
"Gally! Where am I?" she demanded. Gally frowned. There was a streak of dirt on his face that she wished she could brush off.
"In your hut. Do you remember what happened?"
In my...hut. Oh. Elizabeth brought a hand to her head. The dull headache she felt before wasn't so harsh, now.
"Elizabeth," Gally's face was suddenly in front of her, "do you remember what happened?"
"Not really. I remember I was in the garden, and I remember Chris-" Gally cut her off.
"Your memory is obviously jacked. Chris wasn't anywhere near you."
"No, I wasn't done speaking. I mean I remember him calling me Liz and getting upset about it," Elizabeth clarified, raising an eyebrow at him. He raised his eyebrow back at her and she almost had to stifle a laugh.
"You must have been really upset. Don't' worry, nobody wants to call you 'Liz,' anyway. It's too close to 'Lizard.'" Gally turned around and grabbed the cup of water that Zart had given him for when she woke up.
"Here," he said, pushing the cup towards Elizabeth. She sat up slowly and took the cup from him, drowning the cool liquid in one gulp. Gally watched her carefully.
"So are you going to tell me what happened, or not?" Elizabeth asked. Gally frowned again.
"I wasn't there, so I don't know. When Zart comes back you can ask him."
"You don't know anything?" Elizabeth smiled and set the cup beside her on the bed.
Gally scoffed. At least she was starting to act like her old self again. "Look, all I know is you fainted in the cornfield or whatever. Zart came for help and we took you here."
"How long have I been out?"
"Not too long," Gally responded. Elizabeth gave him a look but he just shrugged. "I don't think it's even been an hour."
As he finished talking, the door burst open and Zart, Dalton, and Newt filed in. Dalton immediately went for Gally by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
"What'd you do to her, you shank?" he demanded. Elizabeth stood up and grabbed Dalton's arm.
"Stop, he didn't do anything!" she exclaimed.
Zart came around to her with another cup of water. "Are you okay, Elizabeth?"
Newt came to stand beside Elizabeth and Dalton released his hold on Gally. Elizabeth let go of his arm and then took the water from Zart.
"I'm fine, as you can see," she said before taking a sip.
"Fine my butt! What the bloody hell was that? You can't just faint any old time you like!" Zart's face was red as he spoke.
"Zart," Elizabeth said.
"Next time you feel sick, just tell me and I won't make you work!"
"ZART!" Zart took a step back when Elizabeth's voice rose. "I'm okay. Really." She met all of their eyes and spread her arms out and turned in a slow circle, trying to prove her point. They looked so worried, the lot of them, and it made her feel guilty. It felt nice that they cared, but for some reason it highlighted the fact that she was the only girl among them.
"Tell us what happened," Newt said, his eyes still on her. "Did you maybe not eat enough?"
"I don't think I'm sick, if that's what you're asking," Elizabeth said, trying to figure out how to explain that it was some sort of weird vision that had knocked her off her feet.
"Maybe you're tired," Zart suggested. "We've been working really hard lately, and haven't had time to recover from Ric being dead and all."
Gally nodded. "He's right," he said, surprising Elizabeth with his words. She looked at him and he offered her a small smile.
"You're sad about Ric and probably haven't been sleeping well. You were better this week, but some days you don't act like yourself. Don't think we haven't gotten used to your klunk ways and didn't notice."
"Yeah, don't girls need extra sleep or something?" Dalton added, which got an eyeroll from both Zart and Elizabeth.
"Look, just...why don't you just take it easy the rest of the day," Zart said. "Come back to work until you're feeling better."He grabbed the cups from the cot and walked out the door without a goodbye. Elizabeth's heart warmed. In his strange, boyish way, Zart cared about her; they all did, and it was sweet. Unexpected tears sprang up behind her eyes and her nose stung.
"Thanks you guys," she said, turning away so they couldn't see her face.
"Oh it's no problem," Dalton said. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, then walked to the door.
"You coming, Newt?" he asked, before stepping out completely.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Newt said. Elizabeth stepped aside so he could move past her, but instead of going out Newt stepped with her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him and her nose hit his chest. His body was warm and he smelled like sweat and earth, and something else, too. Something familiar and safe.
"You smell like sweat," she said. Her face hot, she stepped out of his embrace and looked at the door that had been closed, and then at Gally, who was still standing in the corner with his signature frown on his face.
"It was a memory," she said just above a whisper. Just loud enough for them to hear.
"What?" Newt took a step back, surprised. Gally's frown deepened.
"Nevermind, I'll explain later. Go help Dalton or he'll send out a search party."
"Right," Newt faltered at first, but eventually made it out the door, his mind reeling. Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt at sending him away-she could trust him with this. But she also knew he had a job and she could just tell him later.
"Excuse me," Gally suddenly stepped in front of her, "Why are you talking about memories and all that crap? Do you remember who you are or something?"
"No, I don't remember who I am exactly, but...when everybody started calling me Liz...I-I think it triggered a memory. That's why I fainted." Elizabeth took a deep breath, wondering if she should be telling Gally this.
"Explain." Gally's eyes didn't leave hers. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
"A bit impatient, don't you think?" she said. Gally uncrossed his arms and rolled his eyes.
"What's impatient is you telling me that you had a memory from your real life and expect me to walk away okay with that. You have two minutes to explain, so you'd better start talking."
"Geez Gals, at least let me gather my thoughts. I'm still trying to figure it out, too," Elizabeth ran a hand through her messy hair and closed her eyes, trying to bring the fragments of her dream into some sort of story that made sense.
"Tick tock, tick tock. Don't call me Gals." Gally poked her brow and Elizabeth opened her eyes. He was still staring at her with intense, hazel eyes. She stared back at him and was struck with the realization that he was her friend. The others were friends, too, of course, but they were more like acquaintance-friends. Friends that you would meet in school and share lunch with. Friends to joke with and strike up friendly conversations with. But for some reason, in the short time that she'd known him, Gally seemed closer that that. In all honesty she hadn't spent as much time with him as some of the others, but somehow he'd earned a different place, just like Newt had.
"I trust you, Gals, but you have to trust me when I say that the dreams-no, memories-I had don't really make much sense. I don't think they'll help with our situation."
"Fine. Don't tell me, then," Gally scowled and headed for the door, but Elizabeth stopped him.
"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Gally said nothing. Elizabeth let out a sound of exasperation and sat down on her bed. She took another deep breath and then began relaying the events in her dream, including the harsh words the woman had said to her. As she spoke, Gally faced the door with his back towards her. He didn't make the usual signs of a listener, but Elizabeth knew he was paying attention to each word she said. When she finally finished he turned around with a bored look on his face.
"Is that all?" he asked. Elizabeth nodded. He snorted, and she cocked her head.
"I don't see what's so funny about it," she said.
"It's not funny, it's stupid." His words stung, and Elizabeth rose up to defend herself, but he inturrupted before she could say anything.
"You were in love with some poor shank and this woman tells you that you don't have a chance with him because you're nothing? Isn't that a bit dramatic?" To Elizabeth's surprise-and amusement-Gally's cheeks were tinged pink.
"That slinthead was probably jealous," he muttered, "You're a lot of things, Elizabeth, but nothing isn't one of them."
Elizabeth blinked. Gally was...giving her a compliment? A wide smile broke across her face and she hugged him. He stood with his hands pressed against his sides and didn't offer a hug in return, but Elizabeth didn't care. Gally was tough, but his words gave her the understanding that she was his friend, too.
"Get the hell off me."
Elizabeth let go of him, but continued smiling. "That was the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Gals! I feel really touched!"
"Do you? I feel a bit strangled and annoyed." Gally said.
"I don't see the problem. Isn't that normal?" Elizabeth teased.
Gally narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat before changing the subject: "Two things about your memory. 1: What does "wicked is good," mean, and what was all that klunk about being immune?"
Elizabeth bit her lip, "I'm not sure, but I remember that there was something written on my arm about me being wicked. And maybe she was just talking about being immune to love? She...all I know is she was incredibly upset about the idea of me having a crush on somebody."
"So you thought that being wicked was fun? That's jacked up, Elizabeth. Maybe it's a good thing they sent you down here."
"But that's just it, Gals. They didn't mean to send me here, remember? I wasn't supposed to come."
I wasn't supposed to come.
The truth hit like a rock, even though she'd known that before. Suddenly she got a very bad feeling in her gut. She remembered the first day when she told Alby and Nick that she was there to warn and help them, but...what if that wasn't the real reason she came? What if she came to hurt and destroy?
What if she really was wicked?
What the shuck was taking Minho so long? The others had already started working on the map, and Alby didn't like the feeling he got when someone just didn't show up. Especially when that someone was Minho. Usually the boy was so punctual and never failed to finish a job until it was done. P.F. had told him that he'd stopped to talk to Dave, but what probably should have started as a simple "hello" or "what's up" had gone on for too long.
"I think something's up," P.F. said, as if he'd been reading Alby's thoughts. He looked up from the replica of the Maze and noticed that the others looked just as concerned as he did.
"What did Dave want?" Dalton asked.
P.F. shrugged, "I don't know, I'm not the one who talked to him."
Alby sighed and was about to ignore the absence of his friend when there was a faint shout in the distance.
"Isn't that Minho's voice?" Newt's brow furrowed at the sound. He shared a look with Alby, and then suddenly the four of them were out of the Map-hut.
"HEY!" Minho's voice was closer that time. Something akin to worry began creeping its way into Alby's mind.
"Bloody hell-?" Newt's voice trailed off Minho burst into the clearing. His shirt was covered in blood, and judging by the empty sheath at his side he'd lost his Griever-sword somewhere. The rest of the Runners immediately unsheathed their own weapons, and Alby ran to Minho and grabbed his shoulders. Minho winced in pain.
"What happened, Minho? Talk to me!" Minho shoved his hands away and grabbed his shoulder. Alby realized that the blood was coming from a wound in his shoulder.
"Dave is trying to kill me," Minho rasped. he swayed a little and Alby supported him.
"Dave? What-" before Dalton could finish the thought, Dave came in from out of nowhere, brandishing a spear in his hands. There was a wild, almost crazy look in his eyes, and he didn't seem to see any of them but Minho. Newt dodged a blow from the spear as Dave jabbed it in his direction. He and Dalton sprang into motion, both trying to knock the spear away.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!" Alby pushed Minho out of the way and looked around for some sort of weapon. He settled on a large rock and held it up. He swiveled around to watch as Dave suddenly tossed the spear aside and took several knives out of his shoes, spinning them easily in his hands and moving with alarming dexterity. If Alby wasn't so angry at him he might have complimented him on his improvement. Dave used to be so clumsy and awkward with a blade. The last time Alby had seen him in action was the day some Grievers had followed the Runners into the Glade.
Newt easily blocked an attack from Dave, and Dalton swiped at him from the side, but Dave jumped back. P.F. came in from behind and managed to connect with Dave's back. A line of red blossomed across his shirt but he didn't even flinch. He made a sort of inhuman growl in his throat and Alby felt disgusted. The problem with Dave was the fact that he had murder in mind while the others, including Alby himself, were trying to disarm him without hurting him too badly. Dave knew this as well, and he was trying to use it to his advantage. Unfortunately, one against four was terrible odds. Alby grimaced when the rock he threw connected with the boy's skull with a loud 'thwack'. Dave fell forward to the ground and after several breaths the others circled around him.
"SHUCK, Alby!" Dalton half-yelled, half-groaned. "You didn't have to kill him!"
"No, he's not dead," P.F. said, kneeling down to feel for a pulse. "But you probably gave him brain damage or something!"
"You stupid-don't just stand there, then! Get these two to a hut and start calling for an emergency meeting!" Alby said, grabbing Minho to support him. The smell of blood was suddenly getting overwhelming. He looked grimly at Dave as Newt and P.F. picked him up. "I think we found out what happened to Ric, the poor shank."