I took and unconscious step backwards, searching about for Minho or Newt. Maybe even Tommy. Just someone. The other Gladers were doing the same, taking a step back, watching in silence, staring at the row of observers. I looked back to them, noticing a fair-haired man look down to write something, another reach up and put on a pair of thin square shaped glasses. The all wore black coats over white shirts, something stitched on their right breast, I couldn't read it from where I stood. None wore any sort of readable facial expression- all of them carefully blank, gaunt and miserably sad to look on.
They continued to stare at us; a man shook his head; a woman nodded. Another reached up to scratch his nose- which was the most human thing I'd seen any of them do so far.
"Who are these people?" Chuck whispered, his voice echoing through the chamber with a raspy edge to it.
"The Creators," Minho spat next to me, "I'm gonna break your faces!" He screamed louder than I'd ever heard him yell before. I flinched as his voice rang in my ear.
"What do we do?" Thomas asked. "What are they waiting on?"
"They've probably revved the Grievers back up," Newt said. "They're probably coming right-"
A loud slow beeping noise cut him off. It came from everywhere, booming and echoing throughout the Chamber.
"What the bloody shuck is that?" I questioned.
"What now?" Chuck asked, no hiding the concern in his voice.
And because Thomas was the one to figure out how to get here, everyone looked at him. He shrugged in response. He'd told us what he remembered, apparently this wasn't anything familiar or he'd have told us. I looked around, examining the place from top to bottom. Somebody was looking at the doors. Curious, I did too. My heart beat quickened when one of the doors swung open towards us.
The being stopped, a deep dark silence settling over the chamber. I didn't breathe, bracing myself for something horrible to come bursting through the door
Instead, two people walked in the room. And adult. And actual grown-up. She seemed ordinary… black pants, a button down white shirt with a logo on the breast. WICKED, spelled in blue capital letters. She had brown hair cut at the shoulder and she neither smiled nor frowned- almost as if she didn't care, or didn't notice the pile of filthy teenagers in front of her.
She stopped several feet in front of us, slowly looking from left to right, taking us all in.
The other person was a boy. He was wearing an overly large sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head, concealing his face. He didn't say a word, or even look at us. Simply stood.
That was when she spoke. "Welcome back," she said, her voice not revealing a hint of emotion, "Over two years and so few dead. Amazing."
"So-" I cut myself off as he eyes snapped to meet mine. So few dead? Half of us died! Over half if you include the poor shanks who died before the whole Griever battle!
"Something wrong Ms. Curie?"
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Marie Curie," she said, "MaC… that's your namesake."
"Excuse me," Newt interrupted angrily, "Did you say so few dead?"
Her eyes scanned the crowd before falling on Newt. "Everything had gone according to plan, Mr. Newton. Although we expected a few more of you to give up along the way."
She glanced over at the boy to her left before reaching out and pulling off his hood in one smooth motion. He looked up, his eyes wet with tears. I felt my knees buckle. As I said in surprise, "Gally?"
I blinked once, twice. It was Gally.
"What's he doing here?" Minho shouted.
The woman responded like she hadn't even heard him, "You're safe now. Please be at ease."
"At ease?" Minho barked, mirroring my thoughts, "Who are you telling us to be at ease? We wanna see the police, the mayor, the president- somebody!" I didn't bother to worry about what he might do. Not now, because all I really wanted was for somebody to walk up and sock her in the jaw.
She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Minho, "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. I'd expect more maturity from someone who's passed the Maze Trials." Her condescending tone could have been any more disgusting.
I snorted, her eyes locked to mine, looking me over in disgust.
"Gally," Newt said, having elbowed Minho in the gut in an effort to tell him to shut up, "What going on here?"
The dark-haired boy looked up at him, eyes flaring for a moment, his head shaking slightly. But he didn't say a words. He just looked… off… even worse than before.
The woman nodded as if proud, "One day you'll all be grateful for what we've done for you. I can promise this, and trust your minds to accept it. If you don't, then the whole thing was a mistake. Dark times, Mr. Newton. Dark times."
She paused. "There is, of course, one final Variable." She stepped back.
"Variable?" I whispered so that only Newt and Minho could hear. They shrugged.
I focused on Gally, who now seemed to have the spotlight. His entire body trembled, his face sheet white making his wet red eyes stand out like blood on paper. His lips pressed together; the skin around them twitched, as if he were trying to speak but couldn't.
"Gally?" Thomas asked.
Words burst from his mouth, "They… can control me… I don't-" his eyes bulged, his hand going to his throat as if he were choking. "I… have… to…" each words was a cough. Then he stilled, his face calming, body relaxing.
Gally reached behind him. I furrowed my eyebrows in suspicion, "Gally, what are you-" I stopped upon catching sight of the knife, long shiny and sliver, the light of the chamber bounced off of its surface. He gripped it tightly in his fingers before throwing it with unexpected speed… right at Tommy. He didn't have time to move.
There was a shout to his right. And Chuck was there, diving in front of him. With a sickeningly wet thunk the dagger slammed into Chuck's chest, burying itself to the hilt. He screamed, falling to the floor, his body convulsing. Blood poured from the wound, dark crimson red soaking his clothing. My mouth dropped open in shock, and it was all I could do to watch.
Thomas dropped to the ground pulling the boy's convulsing body into his arms, "Chuck!" he screamed throatily. "Chuck!"
Blood was covering Thomas's hands as the boy convulsed in his arms. His eyes rolled back into their sockets, dull white orbs in their place. Blood was trickling out of his nose and mouth.
"Chuck…" Thomas said, this time in a whisper. I bit my lip, blinking slowly… Oh, Chuck…
The boy stopped moving, suddenly still, his eyes sliding back into their normal position, focusing on Tommy. "Thom…mas," it was barely there, but he said it.
"Hang on, Chuck," Thomas said, "Don't die- fight it. Someone get help!"
But there was no one and we all knew it. I bowed my head, holding back tears of sorrow for the boy in Tommy's arms. We all stood silent, still as the grave. This was a private affair and we were intruders, bugs on the wall.
"Thomas," Chuck whispered, "Find… my mom." A racking cough burst from his lungs, throwing out a spray of blood. "Tell her…"
He didn't finish. His eyes closed and his body went limp, one last breath wheezing from his mouth. And Thomas stared, eyes filled with sadness, locked onto the boy in his arms. His mouth open slightly in horror as he breathed slowly. Then something, snapped in his eyes. They turned hard, cold as he stood, closing his mouth tightly. He was trembling as his eyes turned on Gally.
He rushed forward throwing himself on Gally before any of us knew what was happening and started choking him. His hands squeezing Gally's throat as he straddled his torso. And then he started punching. Raining down punches upon Gally's face, one after another. There was sickening crunching and there was blood and horrible screams ripped out from the both of them.
Minho and Newt raced forward at once, ripping Thomas from Gally. His arms flailed thought all they hit was air. They had to drag him across the floor as he fought them, yelling and squirming and shouting to be left alone. His eyes remained on Gally, lying there, still; the hatred in his eyes was… scary.
And then it vanished, just like that as he threw off Minho and Newt's grip and ran to the limp body of his friend, grabbing him and pulling him into his arms, the blood dripping onto his already blood-stained hands. "No!" He yelled, "No!"
I looked to Teresa, who looked back at me with sad blue eyes before she walked to Tommy's side, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder.
He shook it off angrily. "I promised him!" he screamed, his voice ripped with sadness, and anger, and something wrong. Almost mad. "I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!" He cried.
Teresa didn't respond, only nodded, her eyes looking at the ground.
Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezing the boy tightly as if that alone would bring him back. And he cried, great wracking sobs echoed through the chamber. The sounds of tortured pain.
I turned away, unable to look, the weight of everything finally setting in. I looked up at Newt and Minho, their faces tilted downward, somber. They looked back, but none of us said a word. I squeezed in between them arms around their waists as I rested my head on Newt's shoulder, closing my eyes.
Then the cries stopped, and Tommy sniffed, letting go of Chuck and slumping backward as we wiped tears from his cheeks, leaving trails of watered down red. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at Teresa, whose big blue eyes looked back at him, heavy with sadness. She reached down and grabbed his hand, helping him to his feet and once he was up, she didn't let go, and neither did he.
No one said a word. Not a one.
It was the woman from WICKED who broke the silence. "All things happen for a purpose," her voice once again, carefully bland. "You must understand this."
Her sentence was cut short by a series of shouts and general commotion outside the entrance through which the woman had come in. She panicked, the blood draining from her face as she turned towards the door. I followed her gaze.
Several men and women were dressed in grimy jeans and soaking-wet coats burst through the entrance with guns raised, yelling and screaming over one and another. It was impossible to hear what they were saying. Their guns- some rifles, some pistols- looked old… almost archaic. Like they were toys left behind in the woods for years, and have only just been discovered by the next generation.
I stared in shock at two of them tackled the WICKED woman to the floor. Then one stood back and drew up his gun- was he going to-
Flashes like the air as shot exploded from the gun, slamming into her head. She was dead.
I stumbled backward a step into Newt and Minho.
One of them, a man, walked up to us as the others in the group spread out around us, sweeping their guns left and right as they shot at observation windows which shattered. There were screams, and blood… I looked away and focused on the man in front of us. Dark hair and a young face, but wrinkled around the eyes. Worry lines.
"We don't have time to explain," He said, his voice just as strained as his face, "Just follow me and run like your life depends on it, because it does."
And with that he made a few motions to his companions, then turned and ran out the big glass doors, his gun held tightly before him. Gunfire and shouts of pain still echoed around the chamber, but I ignored them.
"Go!" one of the rescuers- as far as I was concerned that's what they were- screamed from behind. And after the briefest hesitation, the Gladers followed, almost trampling on another as we rushed to get out of the chamber… as far away from the Maze and the Grievers as possible.
Checking that Minho and Newt were still beside me, I ran. We all did. Down a long dimly lit hallway and a dimly lit tunnel and then up a winding set of stairs, we ran. It was dark. Too dark. Down another hallway, up more stairs. More hallways, I lost track. But we kept running. Kept moving.
Some of the men and women lead from ahead, while others kept yelling encouragement from behind.
We reached another set of glass doors and pushed through them into a massive downpour of rain, falling from a dark sky. Nothing was visible but dull sparkles flashing off the gallons of water pounding onto the ground.
The leader didn't stop moving until they reached a huge bus, its sides dented and scarred, most of the windows webbed with cracks. Rain poured off of it. "Get on!" He screamed, "Hurry!"
We did, forming a tight pack behind the door as we entered, one by one. It seemed to take forever, Gladers pushing and scrambling up the three stairs and into the seat. Somehow we ended up somewhere in the middle of the line. Minho sat down in the front seat and Newt and I sat behind him as we waited for the rest. I couldn't quite see out the window, the rain blurring any image I might have seen. "Gonna save us all!" came a strange sort of yell, witch-like. "Gonna save us all from the Flare!" wraking coughs could just barely be head through the pounding of the rain. I looked to Newt in alarm. "Don't believe a word they tell ya! Gonna save us all from the Flare, ya are!"
And then a man was yelling, "Stay put or I'll shoot you dead!" a pause, "Get on the bus!"
Thomas clopped on the bus in a daze, Teresa looking worried as she followed him all the way to back of the bus and plopped down in the very last seat. Teresa'd take care of him. I had no doubt. Sitting back in the seat I sighed as the rain pounded on the roof heavily, thunder sounded, shaking the world around us.
A few of the rescuers piled on as well. The man, the leader climbed on as well, sitting down in the driver's seat and taking the wheel, cranking up the engine. And we started moving forward. I furrowed my eyebrows at movement on the left side of the bus. A woman? Yes. Her arms flailed about wildly, her mouth open, she was screaming the sounds drowned out by the storm. Hey eyes were bight with lunacy… or terror. Maybe both.
I opened my mouth to speak, but it was too late, the driver gunned the engine and the bus lurched as it slammed into the woman's body. I flinched as her body collided with the front of the bus. A thump almost jolted me out of my seat as the front wheels tramped her body. And then again. The back wheels. I took a sickened breath.
"What was that?" Minho muttered.
"A woman," I choked, "We just ran over a woman."
A/N: EEEERRRRRGGGG! I wanna see the movie so bad! Ahhhhh! I was at a football game this weekend and didnt get a chance tog o to the movies? How was it? Good? Amazing? Horrible? They didn't butcher it right? Not like they did Percy Jackson... Oh God. I'm so excited and so worried at the same time. I know who's playing who and i know the soundtrack (which I thought was really cool actually), but i havent actually seen the movie. and i have one very impotant question. well two actuallly.
First of all, is Newt still his adorable lovable, too cute to be true self? (I know the actors is cute but is he playing Newt right?)
and second of all
Is the dude playing Minho pulling off the impossibly cool, sassy attitude that i love?