I decided to continue! Thank you for the words of support and the amazing reviews! Thanks to Anne, Book rain, Tezz, all the guests, SDB, Ezeguana, ASLN and FierceTiger. You guys are so motivating and insipring. Tell me what you think about this next chapter! I am optimistic about Oh How the Good Die Young, and I think there will be more chapters to come :)!
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Things were… foggy.
The moment Gally stuck the thin kitchen knife into Green's chest Minho's whole world slowed down. Graham let go of him. His knees buckled slightly and he stumbled forwards towards her body.
Minho didn't cry out or scream for her. He was suddenly lost in a haze. His instincts took over and he wasn't in control any longer.
He ran to her and shoved Gally to the ground with one push. The Builder went limp against the cold morning grass. Minho fell to his knees, feeling the dew seep in through his dark jeans and the soft blades poke into his shin bones. His shoulders rose and fell as his eyes caressed her body. He didn't even know how to react. He just stared at her, his hands levitating over her body as his heart threatened to jump from his chest.
"Oh shuck. Oh shuck." He repeated.
Green grabbed for his hand and he held it tightly as she sucked in empty breaths. Her eyes filled with fear. She wheezed over and over again, begging anyone for some sort of relief. She pleaded with him to save her.
Thomas and Newt screamed, they shouted at Clint to help her. People around them whispered. They asked each other if Gally had done it. Were they free? Would the Box come to take her down?
But the whole time Minho stayed by her side, holding her hand. Their eyes were locked. They ignored everything and everyone.
She was so scared.
Gally was furious. He wanted to stab her again. He shrieked and called Green a whore. He said they ought to kill her just because she was scum, because why should she live if they were trapped here? This was her fault. He screeched empty threats and promised that they would never escape, she's damned them all.
Gally lunged at Minho but someone stepped in his way. In the corner of his eye Minho could see the boy swinging fists and here his cold, fuming voice shattering the air but still he ignored him. Minho scooped the girl into his arms. His eyes didn't leave hers.
"There's still time! Minho take her to the Box! WICKED will save her." Thomas cried. Someone was holding him back still, but it was different then before. It was support, not captivity.
He was right. Green could live. Someone could save her, right?
No. He could feel it in his bones that she would die. There was no hope running through his veins. Only a deep, sickening sorrow that told him he would never see the girl again. It crushed him.
"Put her in the Box Minho!" Thomas screamed. Still Minho stood motionless. The girl hung limply in his arms; her eyes were wide open.
Minho looked to Newt. He pleaded with his friend for help, for relief from the gut wrenching pain, but Newt said nothing. The blond just stared at Green with glassy eyes and a face of remorse. A few tears rolled sloppily down his cheeks.
"God damn it Minho, put her down." It was Alby. He strode over to Minho with his arms open wide.
"Hey! Back the shuck off!" Minho bit with every ounce of hatred he could muster. "Don't come close to her."
"Minho you're killing her!" Thomas screamed.
"You have to put her in the Box." Alby warned.
Minho looked around. His eyes shifted from Glader to Glader. They all began shouting at him, telling him to put her down or put her out of her misery. They told him WICKED could save her. The Creators could fix her.
They didn't know! They didn't know anything about her! Only he and Thomas did! They didn't know how badly he didn't want to let her go.
He looked down at her. The anger flowing through him caused his blood to boil and his muscles to clench. He wanted to bash their faces in because they did this to her!
But he glanced down at the girl in his arms. Her gaze had left his and shifted up to the orange, morning sky. Her expression relaxed; the fear melted away. Her dry, cracked lips, void of all color opened slightly. In a voice so weak Minho barely heard it she spoke. "Thank you… for being there…" A tear slipped down her pale cheek, she drug in another painful breath. "You are… an a-amazing… friend."
He shook his head. They were strangers. He'd only done what any reasonable person would do.
His heart stung with a pain he'd never felt before. It felt 100 pounds heavier and moved 100 times slower. His throat was closing up, his face felt hot, his chest constricted. He squeezed her hand, "Hold on Green. You can survive this." She didn't answer.
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1 Week Later
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Rebuilding had been… hard. There was talk of banishment for those who condoned betraying Alby's rules, but who hadn't broke a rule that night? Even the Greenie, Thomas, had gone out into the Glade with out permission. Alby had mulled over the punishment for hours and hours until he finally came to a solution.
A week later he stood in front of his fellow Gladers at the earliest hours of the day and spoke in a clear voice as they drooled over their breakfast food."
"We're going to move on." He said blatantly. We're going to forget about the girl and everything that took place while she was here. We won't talk about her, worry about her or even think about her. There will be no fights or discussions on the events of those 12 hours. No one will mention her."
"Green." Minho muttered. The Runner was sitting on a bench, leaning back, arms crossed over his chest.
"What'd you say?" Alby asked.
"Her name was Green." Minho said louder this time, sitting forward and flicking his eyes towards the leader.
Alby's face was stone. "We're going to forget her name too." He addressed the group now, "We've been a family for years. It's going to stay that way. Understand?"
Minho rolled his eyes.
Alby bit his lip hard. Minho had always be snarky and sassy and hard to control, Alby appreciated that about him. It was what made the guy such an amazing Runner. And because he was the best Runner the Glade had ever seen, Alby took a deep breath and pretended to not see his blatant disobedience.
"One word about the girl and you're thrown in the Slammer I don't wanna here it. Good that?"
The Gladers muttered halfhearted "good that"s and went on eating Frypan's eggs. Alby sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"C'mon, take a seat. You look bloody awful." Newt called, patting a section of bench next to him. Alby sat reluctantly. Across from him sat Thomas, Minho, Jeff and Zart. None of them spoke. They poked at their food and munched it quietly.
"Shouldn't you be running by now Minho?" Alby asked.
"Taking a late start." The boy muttered as he poked his fork around a wet hunk of egg.
Alby frowned. "We don't take late starts."
"We also aren't supposed to murder of innocent girls and get away with it but that happened so—"
"Damn it Minho enough!" Alby yelled, slamming his fist into the table. The blanket of soft chatter halted abruptly. All eyes were on the Leader and the Keeper of the Runners.
"What do you want, Admrial Alby? For me to forget that the slinthead Gally tried to slice my shucking throat? Or that the lot of them knock you upside the head and left you for dead?" Minho demanded.
"I want you to shut your big mouth and do your job like the rest of us!" Alby ordered.
"Hey! Both of you, enough!" Newt cried over his friend's bickering. "You guys are acting like buggin' four year olds. Stop it."
Alby glared at the blond before flicking his eyes back to Minho. "Get your self into the Maze with the other Runner or else spend the night in the slammer. I'm sick of you walkin' around here like you're the shucking prince of the Glade." He said between grit teeth.
"Fine. Have fun in here with your band traitors." Minho spat before standing up and storming out of the kitchen.
Alby scanned the group; everyone was staring at him.
"Five more minutes and then breakfast is over." He told them sharply. Slowly he sat back down; his blood was boiling.
"Why don't you go take a walk. I'll show Tommy around today." Newt offered quietly.
"Yah," Alby muttered. He glared at Minho as the door swung close behind him. "I've got some stuff to do anyway."
"Good that. Take a breather Alby. Everything's goin' back to normal." Newt insisted.
Alby stared at his food, "I don't think this shuck hole is ever gunna be the same again."
In his head he cursed the she-shank that had brought his order crumbling down.
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Everything had changed since Green left. No one was the same.
Or maybe they were... Thomas hadn't known them well before the girl had arrived. Alby was tired and grouchy, Newt was quiet and peaceful, Minho buried everything in a layer of aggression and sarcasm, and Gally was a prick to just about everyone.
Maybe things hadn't changed much.
But Thomas felt different. He didn't trust anyone. Not that he knew them well before Green, but he didn't have much reason to believe that the Gladers were bad people. Now he questioned everything he'd thought about them.
He spent a lot of his days with Chuck or Newt, and his down time with Newt or Minho. None of them talked much and he didn't mind it at all. If they did exchange a few words it was never about the girl they'd known for 12 hours, the events that had occurred that night or if there was any possibility she might still be alive. They mainly drank a lot of Gally's moonshine. At least Thomas and the others did. Minho usually just sat alone and made snide remarks when ever someone dared to approach him. He ran, mapped, ate, and nested in the corners of the Glade, carving lines into sticks and throwing rocks at the wall.
Things were definitely different. Tension hung in the air like a thick fog.
"Hey Tommy," Newt called. Thomas had been sitting at his hammock, waiting for Newt to come and get him after breakfast. He had one more day of working until the Keepers voted on where he'd go. Today he had Medjacks; apparently it was Newt's favorite post to help out with.
"Hey." Thomas muttered back to his quickly approaching friend.
"Ready for a day of good ol' farming?" Newt said with a playful grin.
Thomas shrugged, "I guess. I don't totally hate Zart."
Newt instantly frowned, he crossed his arms over his thin chest, "Don't say things like that Tommy."
"I was joking." Thomas scoffed.
"It's not a good time for jokes. People are still bloody sensitive about." Newt warned, "I don't want you starting a fight, 'specially not while Alby's around."
Thomas nodded, "Let's just get this over with."
"Oh cheer up Tommy boy! It'll be a good day." Newt said, giving Thomas a light punch in his shoulder. The smile retuned to Newt's face. He dug his heels into the dirt and turned sharply, motioning for Thomas to follow behind him as he made his way to the gardens.
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Several Hours Later
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Thomas wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow. He glance up at the sky. Another hour and the sun would be well into setting; then he would finally get a shower and a chance to sit down.
"You really want to put your shoulders into it when you're moving those bales of hay." Zart told Thomas, "Here, watch me." The blond haired Keeper stuck his shovel into the ground with a satisfying crunch and flexed his shoulders. He swung his arms upwards and flung the bale into small metal wheelbarrow. It landed with a loud thunk."Get it?"
Thomas nodded. He really didn't see much of a difference between's Zart's methods and his own, but he didn't need another explanation.
"Good that. Wheel this over to Newt by the pens. You guys unload it and then head back here. We've got to check on the tomatoes and then we're done." He gave Thomas a sharp pat on the back.
Once again Thomas only offered a stiff nod. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the sweat, but nothing could compel him to reply to Zart. He seemed to be a great guy, well liked by the Gladers and respected as a Keeper. But he had voted to kill Green, and that was all Thomas thought about when he looked at him.
With a small grunt Thomas lifted one end of the wheelbarrow off the ground and shoved it forward. There was a small screeching sound of rusted metal scrapping against rusted metal, but the wheels gave in and soon he was pushing the bales of hay over to Newt.
"You're a natural Tommy." Newt laughed as Thomas hobbled closer.
"Yah, I was born to move hay." Thomas muttered in response.
Newt looked at him. For a second behind the smile and twinkling eyes there was something hard and sick and dark. "None of us were born for this." He spoke softly.
Thomas furrowed his brow. "Um yah… I guess. Let's just dump this. We're almost done." He said, eager to end the awkwardness.
"That's the spirit." Newt said as if he's snapped back to normal all of a sudden.
They had their fingers wrapped around the corners of the first bale when they saw him. Jeff, one of the few people Thomas still respected, was standing stalk still next to the Box. He stared at it wide eyed. Suddenly his gaze shifted to Thomas and Newt.
"What's he doing?" Thomas asked whispered, as if Jeff might be able to hear him.
Newt peered closer, "I have no bloody idea."
Thomas took a step towards the Medjack. He would've yelled 30 feet across the Glade, but something told him it wasn't the time to alert any of the others.
Something was wrong.
"C'mon." Newt said, grabbing Thomas's arm, "Let's just go make sure he's ok." But the tone of Newt's voice and the haste in his step told Thomas he too sense something very strange about the Medjack's behaviour.
They jogged over to the Box coming to a halt next to Jeff. The dark skinned boy just stared at the Box, unmoving, mouth agape.
"What are you doing?" Newt asked as they came closer.
Jeff looked at Newt and Thomas as if he hadn't even seen them coming. "I-I was walking to go get some clean knives from Fry when I noticed… the Box. It's here."
"What?" Newt demanded, shifting his attention to the metal holding crate. It hadn't returned since it took Green down a week ago. Why would it be back now with no alarm? "Where's the alarm?" Newt asked, reading Thomas's mind.
Jeff shrugged and shook his head, "No idea."
"Is there anything in it?" Thomas asked. He tired to look through the metal top, but the holes didn't reveal more than the dark metal ground below.
Once again a head shake.
"Well c'mon then, don't just stand there. Help me open it up." Newt ordered.
"It's empty Newt." Jeff said.
"Well it's here for a reason. We might as well open it up and see." Newt argued.
Jeff sighed, "Fine. But I've got to get going."
"Wait." Thomas ordered, "What if... what if the box is here for us? What if Gally really did k-kill Green in time and the box is here to take us down?"
Jeff frowned. "She didn't die though."
"Maybe trying to kill her was enough for the Creators." Thomas suggested. His heart beat a bit faster at the thought of freedom.
"Let's just open it and see for our selves rather than asking so many bloody questions." Newt bit.
Thomas and Jeff nodded. The three scanned around to make sure no eyes were on them, before Newt and Jeff grabbed the doors and slowly inched the Box open.
The two lids separated, revealing the cold metal floor Thomas remembered all too well. There was nothing but empty crates, metal and...
And something else. A figure appeared at the bottom. A girl. She was drowning in an oversized white t-shirt with the word WICKED printed on it in black and a pair of black cotton shorts that revealed a good bit of her pale, thin legs. Her hair was wet and brushed neatly behind her head. Her skin was void of dirt or bruises or blood. She wore no shoes.
She looked nothing like she did the last time he saw her. But it was her.
She wasn't moving, her skin wasn't the pink fleshy color it'd been before, it was pale and tight and cold. Her body was placed carefully in the box, legs straightened, arms folded over her stomach, eyes closed.
Thomas rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't having some sort of horrible hallucination.
Her body was placed carefully in the box.
Her were legs straightened.
Her arms were folded over her stomach.
Her eyes were closed.
She was in a coffin.
"It's Green." Jeff gasped.
Newt saw what Thomas saw. He stepped forward, looking at her warily. "I-is she…" He paused as if speaking the very word may make it true. He took a deep breath, "…dead?"