Author stuff: Thank you everyone for the love and support so far. Really, every little thing warms my ice-cold heart.
Anyway, work trials begin this chapter! Yay!
TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter. There is vomiting in the first paragraph. I'll try to post the tws at the top. If I miss one, please let me know so I can fix it. I do take these things seriously. I know what it's like to be randomly triggered when you're not expecting, and I want to keep anyone else from going through the same thing.
So, please, if you are ever triggered, let me know. I will not be offended in any way, shape, or form. Anonymous comments are turned on on , ao3, and tumblr. Just a quick: "Hey, there was this trigger warning in X chapter."
Chapter 6
In Which Their Lives In The Glade Truly Begin
Archie regretted every drink he'd had the night before the moment he woke up – which was unreasonably early, as the sun wasn't even peeking over the Walls quite yet. His stomach churned, and he lurched out of his hammock, rushing to the treeline to empty it. He heaved grotesquely onto a bush.
Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he straightened up and started back to his hammock. He stopped upon seeing Nick, Flossy, and Graham. Nick's shoulders jerked up and down as he held in his laughter. Flossy tried to hide her amusement behind a cough. And Graham… Graham looked just as amused as he always did – which is to say, not at all. He looked as moveable as any of the Maze walls. Besides the doors, of course.
"Feel better?" Nick said quietly, grinning at him.
"I feel worse," he said, rubbing his throat.
"Come on then. Clint might have something for your headache. You're just going to have to drink lots of water today is all. I have a feeling a lot of these slintheads will share your pain when they wake up."
They went to the Homestead and took a sharp left into what Archie could guess was for the Med-jacks. There were a few low-rising cots – all unoccupied, which wasn't a bad sign – and some tables and cabinets. Nick drew a set of keys out of his pockets and flipped through them before finding the right one.
"Clint and I are the only ones with keys to this cabinet," he said, "so don't try breaking in or stealing anything."
Nick opened up the cabinet to reveal a vast array of medical products, all organized by what they did and what they were. Nick plucked out a bottle and twisted off the cap with ease, handing Archie two white tablets.
There was a word on the bottles – the one, Archie realized, that had been on the containers that had come up with him and the others – that he couldn't quite make out. Or his brain, rather, couldn't seem to decipher. He shrugged it off as his head was thumping painfully against his skull.
He took the tablets dry, not waiting for the water – which Nick held out to him after he'd already swallowed the pills. The older boy looked mildly impressed. Still, Archie chugged the water. It sloshed coldly in his stomach.
"Right then," Nick said, "this way."
They headed outside to the North Wall. The Glade was still mostly asleep. Only a few people – the Runners, Frypan, and a handful of others – were awake.
"This is Glader tradition," Nick said as they walked over. "We started doing it because we didn't want to forget. We didn't want to forget our names, and we didn't want to forget everyone we lost."
Nick stopped in front of the Wall, looking it up and down. There were names carved into the side, as if it was made of a soft stone rather than concrete. Some were scratched out but still legible. Some were large and some were small. Each one was as unique as the Glader who'd made their mark.
"You three are Gladers now," Nick continued, his hand tracing over one that was scratched out. George, the name read. Archie wondered how long the name had been like that, and what had happened to him. The scratch looked relatively new. "You are a part of our team. Our friends, our brothers – and our sister. We will be loyal to you, and we expect the same in return."
Nick drew out a knife and held it out to them.
"By adding your name to this wall, you are committing yourself to everyone here."
"And if we don't?" Graham said, crossing his arms and challenging Nick.
"You get dragged out into the Maze and tossed off the Cliff."
Archie didn't know if that was actually true or if Nick was trying to mess with Graham. He honestly couldn't tell. Still, the Greenbean didn't hesitate. He plucked the knife from Nick's outstretched hand and moved to mark his name on the wall. It was off to the side, a bit farther from everyone else.
Flossy took it next. She crouched down and chiseled away slowly and meticulously, plucking a rock from the ground to help herself. Unlike everyone else's name, her's had a bit more finesse. As if she'd done it before.
Archie went last. He paused after each letter to think about the next. He almost mixed up the 'i' and the 'e' (which would have been embarrassing). When he finishes, his name is a slew of capital and lowercase letters. And the 'r' is backwards. Still, it's his name, and it's there on the wall.
He's a Glader.
"Good that," Nick said, arms crossed as he watched Archie finish.
There was a grinding of metal on metal and the stone walls to the Maze opened. They watched a few of the Runners jogged up to the North entrance – the boy who Dave had introduced as Minho and Alby were amongst their number – and do a couple of quick stretches, led by, surprisingly, by Newt. And then, as one, they darted off into the Maze. Other Runners did the same near the other doors.
"How about some breakfast, hm?" Nick said, gesturing to Frypan's hut.
The Blood House was in the South-East corner of the Glade. It was something of a mix between a barn and a slaughterhouse. Honestly, Archie was a bit terrified to be there. He didn't think he had what it took to be a Slicer. He didn't think any of them did.
Still, he and the others had to go through with the trial. It was best to get it done and over with as quickly as they could.
The Keeper of the Slicers was a slender boy named Winston. Archie wasn't sure what happened to his face, but he didn't think puberty was the main cause of it. The smile didn't help his appearance much, either.
Nick left them with Winston.
"Alright, slintheads," Winston said, looking them up and down. He wasn't very tall – just a couple inches shorter than him. He could almost match Graham in height.
Everyone in the Glade was so… different. He wondered why they were all here. Were they criminals? The high walls and the Maze made sense with that idea. But, then, why wipe their memory? What was the point in that? Perhaps to give them a second chance to redeem themselves? He doubted it.
"...get you seriously hurt," Winston said, "or killed. Really, it's up to you."
He shrugged, as if it was nothing.
"Now," he continued, gesturing to the Blood House, "if you'll follow me."
Graham and Flossy filed in after him. Archie followed cautiously.
The Blood House was warm. It smelled of dusty straw mixed with urine and salt from animal sweat, manure and old wood and grain. The animals were organized into pens, each in varying sizes depending on what they were. The late morning sun – which had been white and cold feeling outside, was golden and highlighted the dust and spiderwebs tucked into corners – filtered in through the doors, lighting the space. The air felt heavy with the humidity that permeated the whole of the Glade.
"Right," Winston said, "Greenie, Greenbean, I'll leave you to it. Girlie, come with me. The chickens are out this way."
Flossy looked back at them, shooting them a slightly distressed face and waving. Still, she followed Winston outside, through a door leading out to what looked like a large, fenced-in pasture.
"So," Graham said, cracking his knuckles.
"So," Archie echoed.
"You have no idea what we're supposed to be doing, do you." It wasn't a question.
He shrugged, offering up a shy smile. He didn't feel the least bit embarrassed by Graham being able to read him. It was as if Graham knew he wouldn't be paying any attention to what Winston said and had done the listening for the both of them.
"We're feeding the animals," Graham said, nodding to the feed sacks leaning against the wall. "After that, we're mucking out the stalls and putting in new straw. Then, we go find Winston. He'll be working outside somewhere. To the East end of the pasture."
"And Flossy?"
"She's in charge of the chickens. Winston figured she wouldn't mind being the one working in the coop. It's not a very big place, and it's in his line of sight."
"He thinks someone will try something."
"All the Keepers do."
"Do you?"
Graham gave a non-committed shrug as he went to grab a bag of feed. He was trying to distance himself from her, Archie realized.
He gave the Greenbean a once over. Graham was shorter than him, coming up to his nose, but with broader shoulders. He had a straight nose and blue eyes. And fair hair. He looked very similar to Flossy, actually – only, she had gray eyes and her face was rounder.
"You and Flossy look alike," Archie said quietly. "Kind of like you could be related."
"What?"
"You and Flossy. You could be related or something."
Graham frowned and thought about it. He worried at his bottom lip, a bag of feed draped over his left shoulder.
"Do we?" Graham said. "Huh."
"Yeah, don't know why I didn't see it before."
Graham snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Flossy and I related? That's a load of klunk. I've never heard of anything more ridiculous."
"You think?"
"Yeah. I mean, why would the Creators put relatives in the same place? We could easily recognize one another and get our memories back or something." Graham shook his head. Whether at his statement or the audacity of Archie's claim. "Honestly, if you think she and I are related, you should get a view of yourself. You both have the same nose and chin."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I mean, it's weird seeing you two next to one another."
"Huh."
"Anyway, we have work to do, and I don't think Winston will go easy on us if we don't get things done in a reasonable amount of time."
"Right," Archie said, "so, feeding animals?"
"Feeding animals."
Author stuff cont'd.: There's going to be a lot of filler chapters coming up. I completely forgot that I wrote a lot of filler. I had to have them go through the trials and actually edited them down with summaries of what happened (thankfully, not much). But there's still filler.
At least something funny happens in the next chapter.
I actually looked up how to chisel your name into stone because I got bored one day.
What am I listening to? Legends From the Pacific
Follow me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods for nerdy stuff
