Author stuff: So, I forgot to say a couple of things in the first chapter. This is a mishmash of the books and movies. There were things I liked from each piece that I just kind of shrugged and went, "This'll work. Kinda." This means you'll get a patchwork quilt of things. I hope you enjoy it, because I mostly made it for myself because I'm selfish like that.

Also, this is being crossposted on wattpad, ff, and ao3. Ff and ao3 are both under forgottenyogurtgods, while wattpad is under my old username because I actually remembered my password (and all three original chapters I initially posted were saved as drafts).

Also, TRIGGER WARNING. Blood and vomiting are mentioned in this chapter.


Chapter 2

In Which Their Arrival Is Not What They Expect

He woke up to his own retching and the sound of metal painfully grinding on metal. He gagged and coughed, trying to breathe as the stomach acid, water, and drool dripped past his lips and through the grating beneath him. The taste of bile was stale and familiar, as if he'd gotten sick many times before. And he felt like he had. He was only human, after all. Though he couldn't recall any specific time. How odd.

He didn't register that there was anyone else with him until his stomach had emptied itself, and he was dry heaving.

"Hey, shh," the person said next to them, their hand rubbing soothing circles across his back. The voice was soft and distinctly feminine, pleasant to listen to. "It's okay. Just… just let it all out."

He looked over at the person crouched beside him. Yes, they were most definitely female – from what he could see through the periodical, rapid flicker of red lighting – if the long hair was anything to go by. A look of concern twisted her features as she watched him, curious and cautious and a bit grossed out. He would be too, if he was attempting to comfort a vomiting person.

He wondered who she was and how she'd gotten there, with him. How had he gotten there? That was a good question.

"Where are we?" he managed to choke out as he looked around. They were in a tight space of some sort – a caged elevator, from what he gathered, with various supplies. The boxes and crates and drums had a word painted on them, one he couldn't read. The letters didn't look quite right to him. It didn't help that their speed was rapidly increasing as they climbed higher and higher. And the red lights seemed to flicker as they passed them. It was an unsettling feeling.

If he'd been alone, he was certain he would have had a panic attack.

"Not sure. I woke up here, just like you did." She brushed her hair behind her ear, eyes flicking about. She looked beyond him and nodded. "Can you check on him? I didn't want to step on you."

He turned to see who she was talking about. 'Lo and behold, there was someone else in there with them. No wonder the already small space felt so cramped. The other boy had been propped up on a crate, arm draped over it nonchalantly.

He made a move to the other boy and gently shook his arm. His head jostled to one side, revealing his face – a boy about his age, from what he could guess, if a bit older. Though, he wasn't sure how he remembered his own age and not his name.

"Hey," he said, squinting through the dim lighting. "Hey, you need to –"

He stopped short when the light reflected off his face. There was a dark substance staining the boy's skin. He touched it and drew his hand back immediately. It was warm and slick, smelling strongly of copper.

"He's bleeding!" he said, turning to look back at the girl, who'd crawled over to them. Which was probably the most she could do with the dizzying lighting and the rapid rise to the top of… wherever the cage was racing.

"What?" she said, moving in closer to see what he was talking about. Her hair brushed against his cheek – she smelled of something floral and of dried sweat. She gasped when she saw it. "We need something to stop the bleeding. Do you see any bandages anywhere?"

The pair of them looked about, lifting the burlap covers – which neither of them trusted to be sterile – to view the contents. Food, gardening tools, building materials, a couple of chickens, a goat, and...

"Aha!" he said, pulling out a pair of pants from one of the crates. It was packed with clothes of all sizes. He didn't think they would fit either of them, but that thought didn't matter at the moment.

"Are they clean?" she said, trying to examine them in the lighting – an impossible feat.

"They'll have to do for now." He brought the pants over and pressed them to where he thought the injury was. They immediately started soaking up the blood.

He was about to ask her what her name was when the elevator jolted to a stop. She let out a yelp as she stumbled backwards, flat on her behind. He winced in sympathy, hoping the cage didn't leave an oddly shaped bruise. It probably would.

An alarm sounded three times. It reverberated through the elevator shaft and his bones, and it left his ears ringing for a few moments afterwards. He felt like he'd gone deaf in the sudden silence, save the thumping in his ears and the trembling, bated gasps of their breathing.

They looked at one another and waited for something, anything really, to happen. After a few more minutes, the ceiling split open. Blinding light and humidity rushed in, nearly choking them. He hadn't realized how cool he felt until that moment.

Voices above them cackled down at them.

"Hey, oh, Greenie!"

"Let's see your face, you ugly shank."

"Bet my eggs he klunked his pants."

"What a shuck-face. Look at him!"

The girl didn't waste any time garnering their attention. She shot up, blocking the light with her hand.

"We need help," she said, her voice clear and crisp. She gestured to the unconscious boy, her hands trembling. "He's bleeding – can't tell how bad, but…"

She looked back up at them, her brow creased with worry. Her gray eyes darted around the crowd above them, searching the faces for help.

"What the –? It's a girl!"

The group of boys all looked at one another, unsure of what to do or say. There were some mumbles. A lot of them scuffed the toes of their shoes. No one made a move down to them for another few moments.

The grating that made up the top of the elevator was opened, and someone – a much taller boy, lanky and with a mop of blond hair on top of his head – jumped down. The boy looked her over and then to where he was staunching the wound.

Someone above called for a Med-jack – whatever that was.

"Let me see," the boy said, crouching down. He had a unique accent that couldn't quite be placed. It could have been pleasant to listen to, had they not been in this situation.

He raised his hand just enough for the boy to get a view. The boy hissed and called to the others above them.

"Help me get him up," the boy said to him.

He did as the tall boy said and hefted the unconscious boy's arm over his shoulder. Together, they made their way to the crates and climbed up. Hands – dozens of hands – reached down and helped them with their load and hauled them up as well.

He looked around for the girl, curious as to where she'd gone to.

She was talking to a boy with tanned and freckled skin who towered over her – almost everyone, all boys he noted, did. She gestured a bit frantically but, from her tone, he could tell she was trying to keep as calm as one could be in their situation. The handful around her listened intently.

A boy with bags laden with medical supplies took a look over the unconscious boy. In the light, he could see the damage better. The head wound was a clean slice right above the brow line. There were also scrapes and bruises on his arms and legs, as if he'd gotten into a fight. He looked… bad, for the lack of a better word.

He turned his attention back to the gathered crowd. Most of them seemed to be interested in the girl, eyeing her over. It didn't sit well with him.

And, apparently, it didn't sit well with the boy who'd gone down to help them either.

"Alright, you shanks," the boy said, "back to work. We've got lots to do for tonight."

Begrudgingly, the crowd dispersed. Only a few of the boys hung around, those who had been listening to her explanation.

"...and that's all I know," the girl said to the boy with tanned and freckled skin, a pair of round glasses perched on his nose. He nodded thoughtfully, chin resting in his hand as he listened. He had a feeling that this was the boy in charge.

"Thank you," he said. To the boys still hanging around, he said, "Alright, here's how things are going to go. We'll go about it as we always do when a new Greenie comes. Just because we got three this time doesn't mean anything. If we act normal, everyone will do the same. Good that?"

"Except we got her this time," one of the guys said, crossing his arms. He was tall and sturdily built. It looked as though he'd had his face punched in. The scowl he gave her didn't help his mug.

He was about to say something, but the girl beat him to the chase.

"And what's wrong with me being a girl?" she said, folding her arms in front of her and frowning at him.

"There's nothing wrong with you being a girl, but you're a girl in a place full of boys. Doesn't take smarts, Princess, to figure it out."

She bit her lip and looked about, as if noticing no other girls in the immediate area. Her shoulders slowly curled inwards. She seemed to shrink right before his very eyes.

The boy with tanned and freckled skin rested a hand on her shoulder, glaring at the boy who'd spoken up.

"Don't worry," he said. "No one here would harm you. Isn't that right, Gally?"

The boy who'd spoken up grumbled something, but he agreed with the boy. He, at least, wouldn't hurt her. The others… Well, he didn't want to think about it right now. It was probably a good idea not to dwell on it too long.

"With that settled, I'm Nick, designated leader around here. Tell me, do either of you remember your name?"

He opened up his mouth, trying to push out a distant memory of… something, but it hung too far in the shadows to be summoned.

"Flossy," the girl said. "My name's Flossy."

She blinked, as if surprised by this revelation. She frowned and her brows furrowed as she looked up and around at them.

"Why do I remember my name," she said slowly, "but nothing else?"

"Happened to all us shanks," one of the other boys said. He was a stocky dark-skinned boy whose posture spoke volumes. His face, however, was kind and thoughtful.

"We all woke up with no memory of who we were, where we came from, or why we're here," Nick said. "Some bits – like your name – come back with time, but most of it… I wouldn't worry about who you'd been in the past. The person you were isn't who you are now."

The answer didn't seem to appease Flossy's curiosity, but she didn't say anything.

"How about we show you Greenies around, hm?" the boy with the odd accent said, thumping him on the shoulder. "Come on, Greenie, Flossy. Nick and I will show you about, good that?"


Author stuff cont'd.: I spent a lot of time blanking on the Glader slang because I hadn't heard or read it in a while and spent a lot of time "WTF does that mean? Does that make sense? Did I use that right? How was that used in the book?" So, yeah. Lots of second guessing the younger me who wrote this.

So, this past week, I stayed at my work twice (I work at a hotel and there was supposed to be some bad snow storms here, it's all fine). Both times, the fire department came. I'm not allowed to stay anymore. NOT MY FAULT, but it's just a weird coincidence.

What am I listening to? The Wayward Guide For The Untrained Eye

Want to keep in touch? Ask me any questions? See what stuff I'm into? You can find me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods. I reblog writing things, as well as archaeology and anthropology stuff that catches my eye, and some fandom things if I happen to see them.