Author's note ~ Hope you enjoy
He focused on the softly muted sounds of the forest around him, trying to muffle the memories that insisted on swimming in his head and praying desolately for some semblance of peace.
The mood in the glade after breakfast was understandably tense as the boys tried to process Alby's unnerving proclamation. Most were so rattled that when the new arrival siren screamed through the tense air they jumped at the sound; their leader's revelation was so shocking that it took them a second to remember that it was 'greenie day'. As a result the gladers arrived at the box in fits and spurts, eventually gathering in a disorganized group as they came back to their senses. Alby and Newt stood side-by-side in front of the metal doors, silent, neither looking at the other. As the screeching metal lift ground to a halt each took a door and heaved it open automatically, working with effortless synergy regardless of their conflicts. A pale boy with dark hair was on his hands and knees, and appeared to be doing his level best to heave up a lung. Standing back and studying the retching boy, Newt spoke with forced ease.
"We'd better rustle up some mouthwash – poor shank's gonna need it."
"Yeah, well, he won't have a weak stomach for long. We'll toughen him up in no time." Alby replied, in the same affected tone. "I guess it's my turn to haul the greenie out, hey?"
"Absolutely." Newt agreed, relieved that he wouldn't have to navigate the drop into the box. He was well on his way to being healed, but figured it best not to borrow trouble. "Ta, Alby."
Alby grunted, jumping to the grated bottom with a careless grace. He held a cautious hand out to where the boy now crouched, coughing and spitting as he tried to get his breath back.
"Hey. Hey there greenbean. Take it easy now."
"Where am I?"
The new arrival's voice came out in a raspy croak, trembling a little in fear, but steadily rising in pitch and volume.
"Where am I? Who the hell are you? What happened to me? What...why can't I remember? My name...I can't remember my name. WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER MY NAME?!"
"You're name'll come back in a day or two." Alby placated, eyeing the boy and sincerely hoping he would pass out before he could go nuclear. "It's all they let us keep. Everything you're feeling right now is completely normal; we all went through it. You're in the glade now, greenie. You're one of us, now."
Pale as flour, the new boy stared uncomprehending at Alby for a full second before his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled into a heap, out cold. Sighing, Alby called up to the waiting boys.
"Gally, Hank! Get down here and give me a hand. We've got another fainter on our hands."
Jeering laughter and good-natured insults echoed as the two muscular builders hopped down to collect the newest glader. Newt cracked a small smile as he sighed a little, shaking his head. Alby caught a glimpse of the sardonic expression as he climbed out of the box, flashing his own amused smirk back at his friend involuntarily before he could catch himself. Newt's own entertainment faded as he watched the old familiar grin slide off of Alby's face, leaving a studied blankness in its place and a lump in Newt's throat. While the greenie was hoisted limply to the surface, Newt swallowed his pride and made a painful decision.
"Once our new shank's settled, can I borrow you for a bit Alby? There's a couple of things we need to discuss."
Looking at him, hearing the intent – and the underlying discomfort – in his voice, Alby nodded sharply, accepting the peace offering.
"Of course you can, you slinthead." Alby returned with exasperation, a hint of their old comfortable friendship creeping into his voice. "I've always got time for you."
Slipping away from the dispersing pack of boys, Jeff fetched Adrian's book from the med hut and sat outside in the watery sunlight, studying the delicate sketches and looping handwriting intently. Being 'new greenie day', it was unlikely that he'd be practicing on his medical dummy (ie, Newt) today, so he planned to take the opportunity to cram. Working on an actual person may be vastly helpful on one hand, but on the other he was falling behind in his herbal studies, the importance of which Adrian had firmly drilled into his head. Flipping pages, trying to browbeat his brain into absorbing the fine details and minute differences between medicinal plants, he studied fiercely until mid afternoon.
With the sun high above him, he started testing himself by closing the book and trying to recite the distinguishing features, preparations and applications of various plants, checking the book afterwards to see how accurate his memory was. After nailing a dozen such tests in a row, his confidence was high, and he was ready move on to the next part. Grabbing a satchel from the hut and carefully nestling the precious book inside, he brought a picture of the plant he sought to the front of his mind and set off into the forest.
An hour later his confidence was gone, and his frustration grew with every step. He was almost at the far wall, and the end of the forest, and had yet to catch a glimpse of his quarry. He'd almost believe that it didn't grow here at all, if Adrian hadn't stressed the fact that he was only recording plants that he'd actually SEEN living here. On his way to giving up, Jeff plodded along stubbornly, glaring at the greenery all around him.
I know it's here. It HAS to be here somewhere. Think, Jeff, think. Use your shucking eyes. Long ovoid medium green leaves, ribbed, comes to a slightly elongated point at the tip. Foot and a half tall, at best. Cluster of strawberry red bean like berries on a single central stem. Where the hell -
"Ginseng! Awww yeah! Lookit that! Who'da med-jack? I'm da med-jack! Ah ha ha ha!" Jeff cackled as he finally spotted what he was looking for, the plants slightly trampled but still recognizable, growing around the base of tree whose limbs ended a scant twenty feet or so from the ivy covered wall. A bounce in his step, Jeff hurried over to dig up the root of the plant, kneeling down and forcing his fingers into the tough earth.
He managed to extract half a dozen good size roots, shaking the dirt off of them and holding them high to admire them in the patchy sunlight filtering through the leaves. And, looking up, saw the tread of a boot, dangling from a tree limb high above his head.
Baffled as to who it could be, mildly embarrassed to realize that there'd been an audience to his outburst, he called upwards hesitantly.
"H-hey. Didn't see you there."
The man sighed heavily, frustrated at the intrusion but resigned to the inevitability of it.
"Hey Jeff."
"Adrian!" Jeff exclaimed, his embarrassment fading as he recognized the voice of his tutor. "You startled me!"
"Good job hunting down and identifying the Ginseng."
"Thanks. I've been studying the book, and wanted to see if I could put some of it into practice. I was going to look for you when I got back, maybe see if you wanted to work on herbals for a while. What the shuck are you doing anyway, all the way up there?"
"Well, I was dancing the cha-cha," Adrian replied sarcastically, "before you came bursting through the bush like a wild boar."
Jeff rolled his eyes, getting to his feet so he could better look at the man without craning his neck. He was slumped against the trunk, arms crossed, eyes closed and head back.
"Well? Are you going to come down here?"
"Hadn't planned to." Adrian muttered, his sense of duty to the aspiring medic warring with his bitter desire to just be left the hell alone.
As usual, duty won, and the man crankily dismounted from his tree, falling into step beside the boy as they started back toward the med hut. Sensing Adrian's lack of enthusiasm, Jeff didn't attempt to make conversation on the way. Coming across an opening in the woodlands, Adrian's rather dispassionate appraisal of the greenery turned more intense when he spotted a distinctive tall spindly plant, with slightly prickly leaves and dandelion-like flowers. He stopped and pulled up several of the whole plants, not bothering to explain his actions to his partner. Once they got back to the building, he pulled out his pencils and retrieved his book from Jeff, quickly sketching the image of the plant onto the page. He spoke as he sketched, coloring the image delicately so that the plant bloomed to life before them on the paper.
"This is wild lettuce, also known as opium lettuce." Adrian explained tersely. "When processed properly, it produces a very strong painkiller. Not as effective as the narcotic found in opium poppies, but much stronger than the Californian poppy I've already shown you how to use." He started writing down the distinguishing details of the plant, as well as its preparations and applications. When he was done, he filled a small pot with water and put it on the small wood stove, lighting the flame before breaking two of the plants into small pieces and adding them to the liquid. A glutinous, milky fluid oozed from the stem wherever it had been broken.
"Now, this is really important." Adrian said firmly, keeping an eye on the rapidly boiling concoction. "Because this is a powerful drug, it should not be made readily available." Adrian looked into Jeff's questioning eyes, drilling the point home. "Taking this preparation when you don't actually physically need it can cause a deadening of the senses, a mild euphoria, general detachment from your surroundings, and decreased brain function. If too much is taken, it can result in death. With something like this, we don't take the risk of someone giving in to temptation; safer is better. We don't leave anything to chance, we only give it out when there's no other choice, and we don't keep it on hand. Understood?"
Jeff nodded dumbly, incredulous at the idea that anyone would intentionally take such a drug for anything other than pain.
"Good." Adrian said curtly, turning back to tend the pot. "The fresh plant can be boiled with water, like I'm doing here, to make a thick medicinal syrup. It's apparently horribly bitter, but beggars can't be choosers. Never give anyone more than two big spoons of the syrup at a time. You can hang those plants, root up, in the corner there until they are fully dry. Once they are, the dried leaves and stalks can be used to make a tea with similar, if slightly softened, effects. We'll keep dried plant in a jar, with a label, and in a place that any idiot wandering through couldn't find it."
He carefully transferred the thick, viscous liquid to a small jar, straining out the shriveled vegetable matter with a piece of clean gauze. He capped the jar and held it out to show Jeff; an innocuous looking fluid of a rather unpleasant shade of murky green.
"If we shouldn't keep it on hand, why did you make it now?"
"Because I wanted you to see how it's done, and the color and texture of the properly produced syrup."
"What are you going to do with it?" Jeff asked curiously, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets and leaning away a little, as though the jar were full of primed explosives and not an herbal remedy.
"I'll dump it down the outhouse at my place; it's probably the easiest and safest way to make sure it's disposed of."
Nodding his understanding and agreement, the rather serious moment was interrupted by the firmly insistent growl of the med jack's stomach. Jeff laughed sheepishly, and Adrian grinned faintly in response, glancing outside and noting distantly that it was much later in the day than he'd expected. Shutting down for the day by tactic agreement, Adrian pushed the cooling jar into his pocket and accompanied Jeff as far as the dining area, leaving his protege in the line up and seeking out Alby in the crowd.
The dark skinned leader tensed a little when the man approached him, but Adrian kept the conversation brief and to the point; asking Alby to have a few of the track hos and sloppers start digging the trench in preparation for the building of public outhouses, in a location that they two had previously decided upon. With the message relayed Adrian quickly left the area, returning home, eager for some much needed solitude. He stripped off his shirt and washed his face in his little sink, the cool water feeling blissful on his tired skin. As he used the discarded garment to dry off, his eye caught on the jar of potent liquid, waiting patiently on his little table. He walked over and picked it up, tilting it from side to side and watching the thick concoction ooze back and forth hypnotically.
We don't take the risk of someone giving in to temptation; safer is better.
We only give it out when there's no other choice.
It's probably the easiest and safest way to make sure it's disposed of.
Sorry, Jeff.
Pushing away the guilt over his little white lie, Adrian slowly spun the lid off the jar and, holding his breath, dispassionately swallowed half the contents.
Newt felt better after his long conversation with Alby. It was painful, awkward, heated. Describing it as embarrassing, unpleasant and uncomfortable would be an understatement. They'd taken turns yelling, spitting, and snarling at each other; each had been ashamed, exasperated and mortified at certain points. But, at the end of it, both had come to a better understanding as to the situation, and had discovered a little more respect for – and a deeper bond with – the other than they had shared previously. For all that the encounter had been emotionally draining, Newt had held his head high, hadn't wilted or given in, and he felt stronger now than he had for quite some time. Knowing now that Alby knew the worst of what had happened to him, he felt that he could tell his friend almost anything now. It was a heady, freeing sensation.
Sitting with Minho and the other runners at dinner, Newt found his newly acquired strength actually allowed him to tune out the worst of the gossip and speculation swirling around them, ignoring the topic where he could, offering a breezy disinterested comment when he couldn't. Sincerely grateful to be sitting with friends, he was able to put the whole wretched situation out of his head for a while and just enjoy the time spent with good chums, joking and laughing about nothing of particular importance. He'd missed these guys.
"... I keep telling him, Ben, man, you gotta stop hanging your gaunch by my hammock! But he never shuckin' listens." Jack exclaimed, gesturing widely as the others sniggered at the ridiculous story, looks of anticipation on their faces. "So the other day he decided it was laundry day, and what does the shank do? Hangs his freakin' bits on the line, right over my damn bed! Again! So, when he scuttled off to have a nice little swim while his unmentionables dried, I took the liberty of moving them to a more appropriate spot – you should have seen the look on his face!"
The other runners guffawed heartily, Newt right along with them. Ben looked indignant.
"They weren't anywhere near your bed! And it wasn't funny, you brainless slinthead!"
"Oh, I beg to differ." Jack crowed, face gleaming with triumph. "Everyone else found it quite entertaining – watching you, buck naked, climbing onto the roof of the sleeping hut to retrieve your pants – and runnies – from the roof!"
Hoots and cackles of laughter drowned out Ben's red faced protests as they took turns slapping Jack on the back in approval; Ben's habit of hanging his delicates in questionable places was well known among them. As the jovial ribbing died down to sporadic bursts of chuckling, Newt happened to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he watched Adrian speak briefly with Alby and immediately take off, obviously not interested in joining the rest of the gladers for a meal. Newt squared his shoulders and looked back at his friends, purposely doing his best to put it to the back of his mind. There was no point in rushing after the man, demanding answers or making accusations. He'd already spent more than enough time pestering Adrian, behaving much like a whiny little kid chasing after his older brother and being a general nuisance. He'd see the man at some point that night anyway, when they were both back at the house, and he was determined to show him the new stronger, less childish Newt.
Musing on this, Newt briskly walked the now familiar route to the small building in the woods. He'd really lingered over dinner, savoring his food as he hadn't in too long to remember, savoring the camaraderie and care free attitudes of his friends even more. It was dusk before he got up to leave the dining area, with a full belly and a smile on his face. He scanned the trees around him as he walked, eyes alert and feet on autopilot.
Though he felt mostly secure, and quite well protected by Alby's fierce decree that morning, he none-the-less felt a tight little knot of nerves in his chest as the light became dimmer and dimmer around him. The tightness dissolved with a little sigh of relief when he reached the sturdy little dwelling, and he pushed the door open without bothering to knock, strolling in casually. The only lit candle flickered and guttered in its own wax on the table, a fresh taper laying neglectfully off to the side. Adrian was half sprawled on the couch, staring off into space with his music player plugged in.
Newt lit and anchored the fresh candle without being asked, and started two others while he was at it, and illuminating the whole place in a warm pale light. Dropping into a chair from the little table, Newt waved a hand in front of the man to catch his attention. Adrian focused on him with a little difficulty, blinking owlishly and slowly removing the bud from one ear.
"Oh, hey Newt." He intoned neutrally.
"Yeah, hey. I'm back." Newt spoke, almost lazily. "I saw you take off at dinner. Did you get anything to eat?"
There, Newt thought. That sounds more like a friend, like an equal, than a nagging kid. Adrian shook his head sluggishly.
"Not hungry."
"Suit yourself." Newt replied, considering how best to ask about the night before, without making demands or assumptions, or starting an argument. Adrian just stayed where he was, staring at Newt with an unusually blank look on his face that gave the boy a funny feeling in his gut. Newt leaned a little closer, focusing intently on the man; his face was pale and slack, and his eyes were glassy and hazed. His pupils were the size of saucers.
"What's going on, Addy?" Newt asked carefully, studying the man for any reaction. "You feelin' okay?"
The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across his face.
"Not feeling much of anything right now." Adrian commented blandly.
"Ohhhhhhh-kay." Newt replied, more than a little concerned now. "Want to tell me why?"
Adrian thought about that for a moment, before voicing a terribly eloquent response.
"Not really."
Uneasy with the whole situation, Newt literally bit his tongue to stop himself from insisting that the man talk to him. Reluctant to leave him alone, Newt went over and sat on the couch beside him, trying to relax at the other end of the cushions.
"Well, if it's all the same to you," Newt said gently, "I'll just sit here with you a bit. It's been a long bloody day."
Adrian shrugged robotically, leisurely lifting the bud and fitting it back into his ear. Steeling glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, Newt watched Adrian's eyelids droop to half mast, and his lips form silent words along with whatever song was currently playing. After an hour or more and still no change in Adrian, Newt got up and blew out all but one of the candles. The man didn't appear to notice, or care, as the boy bustled around the house, setting it to rights for the night. He was in exactly the same position Newt had left him in when the blonde eased back onto the couch, so close this time that their arms brushed. Still no reaction from Adrian. Newt tapped the back of his hand until he managed to attract enough of the man's attention to have him pulling the bud out again. Newt pointed at it.
"Ts'okay if I listen too?"
Taking a disproportionately long time to consider the request, Adrian eventually held out the earpiece, which Newt took and snugged into place, his head almost resting on Adrian's shoulder. A deep, rusty voice filled his head.
.
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
.
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
.
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liars chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
.
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
.
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
.
Finding the song a little depressing, Newt closed his eyes and waited for it to change to something a little brighter. His brow furrowed when, after the closing bars, the beginning of the next song sounded very much like the last. After a moment it became clear; the same song was playing over again. Odd, Newt thought, I've yet to see that little magic player do this trick. Ah well, no harm, it'll switch to another one soon.
But it didn't.
It played the same song, again, and again, stuck on that one song until Newt felt he could say every word right along with the singer. When he reached out a hand to take the player, see if he could somehow figure out how to get it unstuck, Adrian moved held it off to the side and out of reach. It dawned on him that the man must be listening to this one song over and over again by choice, and the thought of it twisted his stomach into nervous knots. He turned and leaned his forehead lightly on Adrian's shoulder, trying to make contact without being pushy about it.
What's going on? Why is he acting like this? Why this song?
As the repetitive music lulled him off towards sleep and Adrian made no overt moves to shift away, Newt stayed silently beside the man and tried to give him some kind of comfort by proximity alone. Ignorant as to the cause of Adrian's shut down, it was all he had to offer.
Author's note ~
The song featured in this chapter is Johnny Cash's version of Hurt
To address a comment left by a guest;
Thank you for taking the time to review my story. I do appreciate feedback, and constructive criticism as, whether I agree or disagree with someone's opinion, it helps me grow as an author. I understand your view of Adrian as being a bit cliche, a bit stereotypical in the way that the gladers appear to be listening to him right off the bat. In this case, I do believe the cliche is justified; a grown man, memory intact, with a researcher's wealth of knowledge and a willingness to share the information - thrown into an area with three dozen boys with amnesia and only the skills they've patched together in the last 18 months. I feel they'd be incredibly stupid not to get as much from him as they can. Thanks for reading so far, and hope you enjoy the rest.
To everyone else, see you next chapter!
~Ruby